


One Moment

by evocates



Category: Bleach
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Development, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Equal Opportunity Shipping, Espada in Soul Society, For Want of a Nail, Gen, M/M, Making Use of Characters Kubo Wasted, Male-Female Friendship, Mostly Focused on Hollows, Non-Consensual Violence, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 175,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2293859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evocates/pseuds/evocates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One loose nail in the roof. One moment of betrayal. Starrk learns about the truth of his so-called debt to Aizen. A story about learning to trust again, and the difference one person (two people) can make. Canon AU. Starrk-centric ensemble. Past Aizen/Starrk, eventual Shunsui/Starrk. Also Lilynette/Rukia and Grimmjow/Neliel. See tags for full list of pairings.</p><p>Used to be called 'For Want of a Nail."</p><p>Now <s>temporarily</s> complete! Never to be updated again because <i>Bleach</i> has disappointed, angered, and confused me too many times. I apologise for the hanging threads, but the ending of Chapter 22 should be good enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Moving Mountain of Bones

_**~ Arc 1: A God and His Clay ~** _

_For want of a nail the shoe was lost._  
 _For want of a shoe the horse was lost._  
 _For want of a horse the rider was lost._  
 _For want of a rider the message was lost._  
 _For want of a message the battle was lost._  
 _For want of a battle the kingdom was lost._  
 _And all for the want of a horseshoe nail._

The layout of Karakura town was just like most Tokyo suburbs – the wealthier citizens lived in the centre, near the big highway that connects the town to central Tokyo, and the poorer citizens further away. Out of all the Shinigami, only Urahara Kisuke knew about this, though one would wonder if he chose the poverty-stricken street where his shop was deliberately. Maybe it was just the first empty lot with a huge space for a basement he could find.

Most of the battles in the fake version of the town took place within the outskirts, on the opposite side of the town from Urahara’s shop. Some of them, due to the nature of _shunpo_ and _sonido_ , took place closer to the centre. But the battle between the Primera and the Eighth Division capture took place in one of the factory districts, where buildings were short, squat, and poorly-built for functionality.

Ten years ago, a contractor was hired to build a certain building. He was a lazy and greedy man, cutting costs to make more profit. And his usual way of doing so is to make the roofs of buildings poorly – well enough that there would be no water leakage, but unable to bear any kind of weight without caving in entirely. After all, he thought, no one would ever be stupid enough to _stand_ on a roof, and if anything fell through it, the roof’s integrity would be the least of anyone’s problems.

The roof of that particular building was made with slats of crisscrossing wood that fitted together perfectly in the usual style of Japanese carpentry. It was nailed to the sides of the building. One of the nails was loose.

When the Fake Karakura Town was created, the _Tenkai Kecchu_ copied every single detail. Including the loose nail.

*

Starrk was falling.  
 _  
I’m not alone_.

The pain in his chest was immense. There were black cracks appearing around the edges of his hollow hole, spreading outwards. 

_I’m not alone_.

He stared up at the sky. At the corner of his eye, a _haori_ was falling, white against blue. It looked like a floating cloud. Starrk found himself waiting a kick, a yell, or even some kind of ribbing for his ridiculous thoughts. But there was only silence.

 _I’m not alone_.

Starrk fell through the roof. The wood cracked around his weight. He landed hard on the floor, shrouded in shadows. The sounds of battle were continuing without pause. No one stopped to look at him. No one stopped to come to him. Not even Aizen-sama. But surely Aizen-sama was busy with the battle, and he wasn’t ignoring Starrk on purpose. 

He held onto his thoughts of his comrades, his fellow Espada. Even if it was only for a few months, he wasn’t alone. He thought of Aizen-sama’s kind brown eyes, so much different from the ice-like gaze he gave the rest. Aizen-sama’s hand… it was warm. 

Wood creaked around him. The edges of the roof shuddered. The loose nail tried valiantly to fight to forces of gravity, but it lost.

The sky opened itself to Starrk when the roof caved in. Pieces of wood and dust scattered around his prone form. He turned his eyes up, glad that he managed to land on his back. Now that the roof was open, he could see the battle. Even if he couldn’t take part in it at the moment, he would be able to see the victory that he helped with. He would be able to see Aizen-sama win.

His breath caught in his throat.

He could see Aizen-sama raise his sword and head towards Harribel. Even this far away, even on the ground, he noticed the killing intent held in the angle of the wrist.

The wound on his chest no longer mattered. There was a heat beneath the skin and bones that overwhelmed the pain. There was a choking lump in his throat. The air itself was too thick to breathe. He didn’t know the name of this emotion; would only know how to name it years later.

Betrayal.

Starrk _moved_.

Aizen’s ( _Aizen-sama?_ ) sword cut through Starrk’s forearm instead of Harribel’s body. He could feel Harribel’s ( _comrade_?) shock next to him.

“Starrk,” Aizen said, sounding surprised. “You’re alive.”

Vaguely, Starrk was aware that the Shinigami were all staring at him. He ignored them, lifting his head up and looking Aizen in the eye.

“Why…” it wasn’t the pain that made his voice tremulous and weak. “Why were you going to kill Harribel, Aizen-sama?”

*

Shunsui hadn’t wanted to kill the Espada. 

It was because of his eyes. Not the colour; nothing as dull or cliché as that. No, it was… it was what was hidden underneath, the lingering hints of solemnity and loneliness mixed with some sort of strange innocence. Like the many lost children he had met in his long, long life, clinging onto the sleeves of any adult who gave them kindness no matter how hard the whip swung in said adult’s hands.

Somehow, the Espada reminded him of the way Hinamori-chan looked nowadays.

Watching the Espada fall, Shunsui made up his mind to tell Ukitake about these thoughts. Either the man would laugh and tease him for his foolish romanticism, or he would come up with something insightful. Ukitake was always good for either of those.

(Shunsui refused to believe that he wouldn’t be able to tell Ukitake about this later on. His friend might have had a hand stuck through his chest, but he would pull through. He always did.)

He wasn’t surprised that Aizen would kill his own people, and he spared a brief moment of pity for the Tercera. But the Espada he swore was dead somehow _came back_ , and Shunsui could only stare.

Aizen was smiling.

“I have brought all of you to me for a single purpose,” Aizen said smoothly. Shunsui watched as Kyouka Suigetsu cut even deeper into the Espada’s arm, blood welling up to stain the white uniform an even deeper red.

“But none of you had fulfilled it. None of you are strong enough to fight for me.”

Then Aizen was moving back. The sound of his blade leaving flesh was sickeningly loud in the sudden silence of the battlefield. Shunsui found himself wanting to move forward, wanting to… do what? 

The female Espada was gaping, staring at Aizen with such sudden shock and hurt in his eyes. Shunsui’s hands clenched tight around Katen Kyokotsu; _enemy_ , he reminded himself. _They are the enemy_.

Thinking of one of them being similar to Hinamori-chan was bad enough, but two… If it was two, then this war had tainted all of them with so much evil that not even a whole crate of alcohol would be able to wash it away.

“I’m done with you,” Aizen said, with all the gravity of a man stepping on an ant.

The Espada’s single visible eye was shadowed. His hands fell to his side, and Shunsui watched, curiously, as blue-coloured reiatsu began to build up in his hands. Slowly, they solidified into the form of guns.

“Take cover, Harribel,” the Espada murmured. The man turned his head, looking straight at Shunsui. “Can you get the Shinigami some kind of cover, taichou-san?”

Shunsui could only nod.

*

The guns in his hands felt cold. Usually they were so warm, Lilynette’s warmth. They were too light too. It all felt so wrong. He had never felt her so far from him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Starrk watched as the Captain start to order his allies to step back. The Shinigami seemed to obey him instinctively. Then his gaze slid back towards Aizen. He lifted his guns.

“What do you think that will do, Starrk?”

“I don’t know,” Starrk said with perfect honesty. Starrk wasn’t even sure if this would work. He had never tried it. He didn’t want to be alone again.

But he was already alone. And the man who had supposedly brought him out of his loneliness had betrayed him. The gaping wound on his skin was minor compared to the pain within. If he still had a heart, he would have sworn that it had been ripped out.

He shoved one gun into his mouth, the other to the mask covering his eye. Harribel was yelling something, but Starrk couldn’t hear a thing. He fired.

His mask shattered. Blue light exploded outwards, upwards, tearing through the clouds.

In that one moment, Coyote Starrk ceased to exist.

“Segunda Etapa.”

*

Hueco Mundo was a vast desert, an entire world filled with nothing but white sand and creatures who barely had any intelligence for speech, much less culture. There were no books. Any Hollow who met each other was often more interested in killing each other than speaking.

But even in a world such as this, there were stories, passed along from Vasto Lorde to Vasto Lorde in the rare times they met. Sometimes, the Adjuchas knew the stories too, whether from the Vasto Lordes they served or from each other.

One of the most well-known tales was that of the moving mountain of bones.

Less than a century ago, a nightmare came to Hueco Mundo. Hollows themselves were creatures of nightmares, children’s tales of monsters under the bed made form and given teeth and irrepressible hunger. But even nightmares had fears of their own, and many Adjuchas were haunted by that tale. Of a creature so terrifyingly strong that it left behind trails of bones that built into mountains wherever they walked; a creature so powerful that it was impossible to be _near_ it before one turned into dust. 

Even the Vasto Lorde avoided the creature. Once, Harribel had heard that the creature was female, and she wanted to approach it – female Vasto Lordes are so rare that she thought herself the only one. But she had Adjuchas to protect, and her fraccion were too stubborn to be left behind.

But it seemed that the story had come to her instead.

The spiritual pressure in the air was so thick, so immense, that it was suffocating her even in her released form. She stumbled backwards from the column of blue light, eyes widening. Her gaze turned towards Aizen, and she saw something that felt like a cold hand sticking into her chest.

Aizen was smiling. He looked amused.

Harribel wanted, suddenly, to kill him. But there was suddenly a hand on her shoulder, shoving her backwards, and she fell through… was that a barrier? 

The man who grabbed her was Starrk’s opponent, a Shinigami with flowers in his hair and was far too hairy. Harribel stared at him, eye narrowing slightly, and he laughed.

“Well, Espada-san gave us a warning when he didn’t have to,” the Shinigami said. “I’m repaying the favour.”

There was an odd look in his eyes, but Harribel ignored it to think about later. Her hands itched at her side. Her fraccion… they were still outside, and if this was what she thought it was… 

“Not _he_ ,” she said flatly, and then she was gone.

The spiritual pressure was getting even stronger. Harribel gritted her teeth and shot towards her fraccion. They were all still alive, and she held Tiburon with her teeth before pulling all three of them to her. She couldn’t pull all of them into the barrier by herself even with both hands free, but she would rather die first before she let them all die like this. 

Then the Shinigami was there again. The odd look in his eyes was there again, and now Harribel recognised it: the man looked as if what she had done had turned his entire world upside-down.

“Will you let me help?” he asked.

Harribel didn’t have time to think, much less reply.

“Shoot to kill, Shinsou.”

The blade came towards them, aimed straight at Mila-Rose’s chest. Harribel made a low growl, shoving Mila-Rose back, putting herself in the path of the blade. It was an immediate, instinctive move; she was the embodiment of sacrifice, and if she died for the sake of her fraccion, then it would be worth it. 

Shinsou’s edge stopped right in front of Harribel’s throat. She blinked.

Long, dark green hair danced in front of her. She looked down. A single pale hand stopped Shinsou from moving, the sword trembling as it met an immovable object. The fingers were splayed open, and they closed, gripping the blade tight. Harribel dodged the elbow as the creature in front of her literally _shoved_ the zanpaktou right back at its owner.

“You’re going to die if you stay out here,” the creature said. Harribel’s eyes widened at the sound of its voice: both Starrk and Lilynette’s together, joined in an echoing chorus that was utterly alien and inhuman.

“But we should have known that you wouldn’t have left them here, Harribel.”

The eyes were a dull red, like old blood.

“I can leave them behind as you can leave Lilynette, Starrk,” she said tentatively. Was this really Starrk?

“That’s stupid!” the voice still echoed, but Starrk’s was entirely gone. This was purely Lilynette’s high-pitched, girlish voice. “That’s really, really stupid! They’re not part of you!”

Harribel looked up, startled. The creature had Lilynette’s face, except slightly older. She resembled Inoue Orihime in age, if nothing else – all of Starrk’s sharp angles were gone, replaced by slightly-rounded cheeks and plush lips. But the look in those red eyes was purely Starrk – tired, unimpressed, and just a little annoyed.

The wound that was on Starrk’s chest had disappeared, replaced by thick scars spreading out from the Hollow hole in her chest, overlaid by a thicker one that corded from shoulder to hip, bisecting through the small breasts barely covered by the white uniform.

“They might as well be,” Harribel replied.

The Shinigami at her side suddenly spoke. “Who are you?” he sounded mildly curious.

“You totally weren’t paying attention to us, were you? We _told_ you—” the creature suddenly cut itself off, shaking its head.

“We were one hollow,” Starrk said. “That’s what we are now.”

His deep baritone was so strange coming from the female body in front of him.

“The moving mountains of bones,” Harribel murmured.

The Shinigami shot her a surprised look, but Harribel ignored him, more curious about the creature’s sudden wince. 

“Is that what you called us?” the two of them spoke together again. “We don’t like that name.”

“What is your name, then?” the Shinigami asked.

The creature fell silent for a long moment. It turned around, facing the battlefield. Blue light started forming in its hands, creating a sword, and a gun. 

“We didn’t have a name,” the creature said in its strange double voice. “There is no point in having a name when you are alone. There is no one who will use it.”

It raised its gun at Aizen.

“We are Starrk, and we are Lilynette. Either name is fine.” It looked back at them for a moment. “You should get into the barrier. Are you sure it will hold?”

The Shinigami nodded. He turned to look at her, and Harribel sighed.

“Take Sung-Sun,” she said, for that fraccion would complain the least about being touched by the Shinigami. She pointed when the man looked confused.

Mila-Rose and Apacci slung over her shoulders, Harribel fled back into the barrier, followed closely by the Shinigami.

Behind them, blue light exploded.

*

Shunsui felt like he was an hourglass in the hands of a child, being turned around and around until he was dizzy. He put down the Arrancar in his arms and watched as the Tercera Espada pulled them all towards her, holding tight to their bodies and checking their injuries over and over. Like a mother with her children.

He dragged a hand through his hair and stared out towards the battle outside. Nothing had happened like it should have. No matter how Shunsui tried, he couldn’t see the Espada in front of him or the one fighting outside to be enemies. He could barely even see them as Hollows, even. 

God, he needed a drink.

Ukitake’s stretcher had been pulled into the barrier somehow, and Shunsui walked over to his best friend, sitting down next to him. Retsu-senpai lifted her eyes, giving him a small smile before concentrating on healing his friend. Shunsui made himself comfortable, keeping half an eye on the shallow up-and-down of Ukitake’s chest – he’s still breathing, good – before he turned to look at the battle happening up ahead.

Aizen was winning. In fact, there was no way that the Espada (Shunsui stuck with that name in his head; calling the Espada by her _names_ was too dangerous, no matter which one he chose) could win.

He pulled the tie out of his hair, staring at the bright blue cloth before he let out a shuddering sigh.

There was too big a gap between the Espada’s skill level and Aizen’s. No doubt they were on the same level in terms of raw power – Shunsui reckoned that she was on the same level as Yama-jii, or even higher – but raw power could only do so much in a battle. Shunsui’s own win had proven that. Plus there was Kyouka Suigetsu…

Shunsui wondered, briefly, if Aizen had already killed the Espada and was just putting up an illusionary show to entertain the rest of them while he destroyed Karakura, or something. He wouldn’t put it past the man.

An hourglass constantly being turned. He felt practically dizzy.

“You need to wake up faster, Ukitake,” he said out loud, sighing heavily. “I’m starting to depress myself and I don’t even have a drink with me to make that tolerable. You need to wake up to talk me out of this.”

“I don’t think Ukitake-taichou will be waking up today, Kyouraku-taichou,” Retsu-senpai told him pleasantly. “But if you need to talk…”

Shunsui looked at Retsu-senpai out of the corner of his eyes. He knew who – or rather, _what_ she really was – and he wondered if she would understand having compassion for an enemy. But at the same time… she _had_ helped him heal that Sado boy.

He rubbed a hand through his face.

“I wish all three of them had been like that skeleton in robes,” he said quietly. His eyes were still fixed upon the battle in front of him – even though it hurt him to see the Espada being constantly slashed at and hit with kido spells, he owe it to the man (woman? creature? what?) to at least _watch_ without turning away.

“They are so human,” he continued. “The look in their eyes…”

Retsu-senpai brushed a strand of Ukitake’s hair away from his shoulder, her kido moving to another spot as she healed the damage.

“Kyouraku-taichou,” she murmured. “Do you remember how Hollows are made?”

Shunsui tilted his head to the side, glancing at her.

“All of them were once humans. They were souls we failed to bring to Soul Society before their soul chains had rotted.” She looked up, and her dark eyes were piercing upon his. “Is it so strange for some of them to have remnants of humanity remaining?”

… Ah, he made another miscalculation. Shunsui was really getting too old for this. Retsu-senpai would understand _better_ than anyone what it meant to claw her way out of inhumanity, to repress instincts and blood-hunger to become someone _better_. 

“No, it’s not,” he said.

He meant to say more – apologise, perhaps – but the barrier suddenly shook. Shunsui turned his full attention back towards the barrier, and his eyes widened. The Espada had been slammed against the barrier itself, Aizen’s hand wrapped around her throat. The sounds of her trying to breathe dug deep into Shunsui’s chest.

How many Shinigami had he heard making the same sound?

“This was a surprise, Starrk,” Aizen was saying. “I have always thought you were the most loyal out of my Espada. You were certainly the most…” his lips curved up even further. “Willing.”

She struggled even further.

“You remind me of my dear Hinamori-kun sometimes,” Aizen mused. “The way you look at me… like a puppy, waiting for treats and praise.”

Aizen lifted her up. The barrier shuddered hard. The yellow shield was smeared with blood. She struggled. Then, he threw her to the side.

She hit a building, sending up a cloud of dust. It had barely cleared before she shot back again. There was blood all over her body, though her skin seemed pristine underneath. Shunsui recognised what could cause that – little cuts and wounds, meant more to cause pain than any real, lasting harm.

“You should learn to stay down,” Aizen said. Then he drew his sword once more, the sound of metal against sheath loud. “What can you do with those weapons I taught you how to use?”

He was _playing_ with her, Shunsui realised, feeling slightly sick.

She met his sword with her own.

“Aizen-sama,” she said quietly, her voice an echoing mixture of the two creatures who made up her soul. “Our greatest weapon isn’t our sword, or our gun.”

“Oh?” Aizen raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t you feel it? Our reiatsu is devouring yours.”

Shunsui allowed himself to feel one moment of victory as Aizen’s eyes widened.

“We are Hollow, Aizen-sama. And we have to eat. It doesn’t matter if we die. We will eat you whole.”

The barrier was shuddering. If kido could cry, Shunsui was sure that it would be crying. The reiatsu from the outside was seeping through, and it was completely cold. Not like ice, but like the complete absence of heat itself.

Distantly, he found himself realising that the buildings of the false town was slowly dissolving. The trees were all dead; in fact, they were dead even since the Espada had let loose the first blast of deadly reiatsu. Everything was turning into nothingness.

She wasn’t smiling. She was looking at Aizen with deep sorrow. Then, she reached out a hand.

There was a moment of complete stillness.

Black and purple power shot out of Aizen, right towards the Espada. Blue surrounded her. The Hogyoku’s energy hit the edges of the blue, and was immediately drawn in as the Espada’s reiatsu began to feast. 

Shunsui wondered how he could even think that he had killed this creature in the first place.

*

Kisuke sat on the very edge of the barrier, unnoticed, as he watched.

Hollows were defined by their hunger. They were natural cannibals, surviving by eating each other to grow stronger. The humans had a saying, ‘a dog-eat-dog world’, and that was literal when it came to Hollows.

But he had never thought _this_ was possible. Of course, he had heard plenty of reports about being crushed by spiritual pressure, of feeling as if one’s soul was being devoured, even amongst Shinigami. He never did realise that it was possible for it to be _literal_.

He itched to get closer. But no, he must wait. There were greater things at stake than research, here.

Yoruichi-san sat down next to him, her usual silent tread gone due to the anti-hierro jumpsuit that she wore. Her legs swung lightly against the edge of the building.

Kisuke looked at her from under the brim of his hand. Beneath the casual posture was a thrumming tension: she was prepared for battle.

“That’s not going to kill him,” she commented.

He snapped his fan open and grinned. “Don’t worry, Yoruichi-san! There will still be time for us to make a dramatic entrance!”

Yoruichi-san didn’t even look at him before she smacked him on the back of his head. 

“She’s weakening Aizen,” she murmured under her breath. “If she keeps doing this, then… perhaps Ichigo wouldn’t have to use the Final Getsuga Tenshou, after all.”

Snapping his fan closed, Kisuke looked at her. He wasn’t surprised that she knew about that – there was very little that Yoruichi-san didn’t know. 

“I do hope that is possible,” he murmured. 

He knew that his reasons for that were entirely selfish: he _liked_ Kurosaki-san, and the thought that the boy would have to give up his power – give up his entire raison d’etre for life – for the sake of fixing Kisuke’s own mistakes was… immensely uncomfortable. 

Yoruichi-san was giving him a wry look. She was likely the only person in the world who knew _exactly_ what was going through his head at this very moment. Opening her mouth, she almost made a comment…

But she was interrupted by a sudden, loud _crack_. Like thunder, except much worse, because it was happening in his _head._ Kisuke’s eyes widened, snapping back to the battle. 

What the hell had just happened?

Aizen-san had his sword through the Primera Espada’s chest, the blade sticking out behind her back. His face was twisted, lips pulled back in a snarl of complete rage. The Primera was smiling, almost serenely.

There was something… off about the entire scene; something that was entirely strange. No, that wasn’t it.

Ichimaru-kun was standing far behind the battle between the two of them only a moment before. Now he was behind the Primera, and Kisuke _did not see him move_. It seemed as if the man had teleported. But that wasn’t it. Kisuke had reports of all of the three traitors’ strengths, and while Ichimaru-kun was good at _shunpo_ , he wasn’t that good.

His eyes slid over to Yoruichi-san for a moment. She, too, was staring at Ichimaru-kun, a frown creasing her forehead.

“Kyouka Suigetsu…” Kisuke heard his own voice said, his mind working far faster than it could form words. 

Unohana-taichou got there first. Her voice rang out, soft as silk, hard as steel.

“The Complete Hypnosis has been broken.”

Kisuke didn’t know how the Primera had done it. He resolved to figure it out. But now, something was more important: someone had to stop Aizen-san from initiating his shikai and placing his illusions over them again. He took a step forward. Beside him, Yoruichi-san did the same.

But someone else got there first. A hand gently closed around Kyouka Suigetsu’s exposed blade.

“Shoot to kill, Shinsou.”

The blade shot through the Primera’s chest. Kisuke saw blood trickle down her lips. But the sword didn’t stop there; it _kept moving_ until it pierced through Aizen-san’s chest. Aizen-san’s eyes widened, a gasp escaping his lips as he was shoved backwards from the force of the impact.

The traitor had been betrayed.

*

The cold, blue reiatsu was starting to fade. Shunsui stared at the two blades that neatly impaled the Espada. Somehow, she was still smiling.

Shinsou slid out of Aizen’s chest, then out of hers. Aizen stumbled backwards. The _squelch_ that Kyouka Suigetsu made as it left the Espada’s chest was sickening. Shunsui watched, his hands clenching at his sides, as Aizen snarled, lashing outwards, nearly bisecting the Primera into half.

And she was falling out from the sky. 

There was another _crack_ , this time softer and, thankfully, outside of his head than within. One body became two, and the more familiar forms of the Primera were plummeting towards the ground. Shunsui watched, his nails biting into his palms, as the man reached out, grabbing the young girl before he wrapped himself around her. __  
  
The barrier shuddered for the last time before it shattered completely.

Shunsui was torn. The strategist and Captain within him demanded that he stay and watch what was happening between Ichimaru and Aizen; but there was a part of him, the same part of him that was Ukitake’s best friend, that wanted to rush down to see if the Espada was alright.

Practicality had to win over sentiment in war, he reminded himself.

He stayed.

“I didn’t quite plan to do it this way,” Ichimaru was saying in his soft, lilting accent. “Having such an audience… it’s making me rather shy, Aizen-taichou.”

Aizen, a hand placed over his chest, stared.

“But then… Starrk-chan and Lilynette-chan gave me _such_ a good opportunity,” Ichimaru sighed theatrically. “How can I resist?”

“Do you think you could kill me like this, Gin?” Aizen sounded far too smug for having a hole right in the centre of his chest. Blood was dripping down, falling through the air.

Ichimaru chuckled. “No,” he said, his smile widening. “But there’s poison in the inside of Shinsou’s blade. And I left it inside you.”

He stepped forward. Shinsui noticed the hole in Shinsou’s blade, and his eyes widened. For a sword to receive a wound like this… it might as well have been completely broken. And Ichimaru did it _deliberately_.

“Kill,” Ichimaru whispered, his hand right above Aizen’s chest. “Kamishini no Yari.”

His voice was completely void of his usual mischief and humour.

Shunsui watched as Aizen threw his head back. His flesh was being devoured from the inside, revealing the Hogyoku. The orb was flickering weakly, its colour nearly clear. Shunsui remembered the roaring black-and-purple reiatsu, and his eyes flickered towards the ground.

Aizen screamed. Ichimaru grabbed the Hogyoku.

In that one moment, the statues that had once been the Gotei Thirteen forces came back to life. Shunsui watched as some of them darted after Ichimaru – Rangiku-chan being one of them despite her injuries – and some of them beginning to contain Aizen, unwilling to believe that he could die so easily.

Wise people, those. Shunsui would leave them to it; after all, he had never once thought of himself as possessing any form of wisdom.

He shot down to the ground instead, senses thrown outwards to find the familiar pulse of blue reiatsu. It was weak, ridiculously weak given how the crushing power it was just a few minutes before, but Shunsui could still find it.

His eyes widened the moment his feet landed on the ground.

Both halves of the one soul who had made up the most crushingly terrifying Hollow alive were bleeding, blood spreading around them in a large pool. The wound Shunsui had given the man had reopened again, but it was joined by the wounds caused by Ichimaru’s and Aizen’s swords. There was blood on his lips. Shunsui could tell that he had several broken bones, probably from landing.

On his side, the little girl had the exact same injuries. Except that they seemed… more shallow, less fatal somehow.

Shunsui stepped forward, and fell onto his knees beside them.

“You were holding out on me, Espada-san,” he tried for lightness. No matter how he looked at it, the Espada was dying.

One pink eye snapped open, and narrowed. “Goddammit,” the girl said, coughing hard. Blood splattered the coat of her other half right where she was curled up against him. “What will it make you to call us by our _proper_ names, huh?”

The indignation of her tone was blunted heavily by exhaustion.

Shunsui tried to smile. “Well, you kind of started it,” he said. “You called me ‘Taichou-san’ first, right?”

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but a heavy voice stopped her.

“It’s alright, Lilynette,” he whispered, reaching out one bloodied hand to brush over her mask fragment. She quieted down, curling even further into his side. He held her close, shifting slightly as if to shield her from Shunsui’s gaze.

Grey-blue eyes raised to meet his own. “Taichou-san,” the Espada said. “Are you here to kill us?”

 _Of course not_ , Shunsui almost said. But then again, the Espada didn’t have any reason to believe he would do anything else. 

He shook his head. “No,” he said. “I…” Actually, he didn’t even know why he was here.

“I’m here to bring you to a healer.”

“Why?” Lilynette burst out. “Why would you even do that?”

Why, indeed? Shunsui scratched his hair. He wished he was more like Ukitake; wished that he had his best friend’s usual pool of easy compassion to fall back upon. But Shunsui knew himself well; knew that he was an imminently selfish man. 

If he told these two that he was repaying the favour – the Espada could have killed him when he was taken off-guard by Wonderweiss’s attack, after all – they wouldn’t believe him. And they would be right not to: Shunsui could throw away his honour and scruples for the sake of his survival, and he would do it easily.

They wouldn’t be able to fight him if he forced them, but at the same time… Shunsui dragged a hand through his hair again, mildly surprised that it was still loose; he forgot to tie it back up.

“Because I want to,” he decided to say eventually, because it was the most honest answer. “Do I need more reason than that?”

The two of them exchanged a glance, having an entire conversation within the single second it took their eyes to meet. Then, they looked at him again.

This time, it was the girl who spoke.

“Okay. But if you trick us, we’ll…” she faltered, as if unable to think up of any threats.

The man sighed, the sound heavy as the Earth. “We’ll leave,” he said.

They looked at him expectantly, and Shunsui felt his breath being punched out of his lungs. Their eyes were so old and so _young_ at the same time; the look of children who had been through too much suffering. Shunsui found himself reaching out, his fingers brushing over the girl’s mask fragment – it felt so warm beneath his hand – before he placed his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“I can’t promise not to trick you,” he said, because that would be an unconvincing lie. “But I’ll warn you beforehand.”

They exchanged a look again.

“I suppose that’s as good as we can get,” the girl said. She let out a dramatic sigh, dropping her head onto her other half’s shoulder. “You suck at making deals, Shinigami.”

“Lilynette.”

She huffed before settling back down. They leaned towards each other, watching Shunsui.

Now… the problem was that he didn’t know how to get the two of them back up to the healing station together. He would have to go one by one.

“I’ll have to separate you,” he sighed.

“Take Lilynette first,” the man said immediately.

Immediately, the girl shook her head. “No, Starrk. You’re more hurt. You’re the idiot who took most of the injuries onto yourself!”

“Take Lilynette first,” he repeated. His eyes closed. “Please.”

Shunsui sighed. He had the hourglass feeling again – Hollows weren’t supposed to _beg._ “Sorry,” he told the girl. “I can’t refuse a request when it’s asked so nicely.”

She looked at him and her other half, single eye darting from side to side. Then she sighed. “You leave something behind,” she demanded. “Leave something here so that anyone else who came would know that you made a deal with us.”

_So they won’t try to hurt him_ , Shunsui heard. He almost smiled. He looked down at himself for a moment before he realised that he had nothing to leave behind. But…

“I’ll be back in five seconds,” he told the two of them. Then, just as their eyes were widening, he darted away.

His pink kimono was still lying there, right where Ukitake had left it before joining him in the battle. Somehow that seemed like a _decade_ ago, at the very least, instead of only a few hours. Shunsui picked it up, slinging it over his shoulder before zipping right back towards the pair.

“Six! You’re late!”

The girl was _actually keeping count_. Shunsui stared at her, his lips twitching upwards helplessly. He hoped that Ukitake would wake up soon; he would love to be able to interact with her off of a battlefield. She was adorable.

And he never thought he would ever use that word on a Hollow. But then again, these two were like no other Hollows he had ever met.

“I had to look for it,” he said, holding up his kimono-full arms in protest. Then he was kneeling down again, placing the heavy silk over the man’s form. He seemed to be dozing off, but he cracked open an eye once he noticed the weight.

He glanced down, then back up. One eyebrow quirked upwards. Shunsui grinned in reply.

“Pink isn’t my colour,” Starrk drawled. He sounded completely casual, but Shunsui noticed how his fingers rubbed over the silk; noticed the barely-hidden surprise in his eyes.

“Nonsense,” he said. Reaching out, he started to scoop Lilynette up into his arms. “We have almost the same colour scheme, and pink is definitely my colour!”

Before Starrk could reply, he steadied Lilynette before moving into _shunpo_ towards the healing station.

Retsu-senpai wasn’t even surprised when he brought Lilynette to her directly. Instead, she directed him to a nearby stretcher. Shunsui laid her down there – she was being oddly quiet – and immediately looked for another stretcher. He pulled it towards her, and her fingers darted out, grasping at the empty air.

He placed his hand on top of her helmet. She looked up to him, the past bravado gone, leaving behind a young, wounded girl, looking horribly insecure.

“I’ll bring him here right away,” Shunsui told her.

She looked at him for a long moment before biting her lip. “Okay,” she said. Her small fingers clenched hard over the empty, unfilled stretcher. The motion was so incredibly human that it hurt to look at.

Shunsui left.

Starrk was in the same spot as he was a few minutes ago. His eyes were open, but blank, looking upwards… right at the direction of the healing station. Shunsui wondered what it must feel like; what it _meant_ to literally have two parts to one soul, and to be separated like that. If he had known this, he would have never pulled that trick that had nearly cost Lilynette’s her life.

No, he knew himself too well for that; if he had known during battle, he would have used it even earlier to force them apart. Now, though… now he just wished he would never need to face the two of them on the opposite sides of a battlefield again. 

He still would have killed them. But if he had… he would need more than one crate of alcohol. Maybe he would need an unending river full of it.

Brushing the thoughts away, he knelt next to Starrk. Slipping one arm beneath the man’s neck and the other beneath his legs, he paused, looking at him.

Starrk’s eyes were focused again. The other man looked at him for a long moment, unblinking, before he let out a breath.

“Pink isn’t your colour either,” he said. 

The comment was so utterly inane that Shunsui nearly fell over his face. He found himself laughing, rough chuckles tumbling out of his throat.

“Don’t make me laugh, Starrk-san,” he said, lips quirking up. “I might drop you.”

“Oh no,” Starrk said, perfectly flat.

Biting his lips to stop himself from laughing again, Shunsui tightened his grip around the other man’s body and stood up. Starrk felt incredibly light – must be the bloodloss – and Shunsui dashed right back to Retsu-senpai.

This time, she _did_ raise an eyebrow at him, her gaze fixed upon the kimono that was still laid over Starrk’s form like some kind of gaudy funeral shroud. She knew how much he liked the thing, how much it meant to him. But Shunsui only shrugged – if there was anyone whose blood should stain the kimono, it was this man.

He placed him next to Lilynette, and the two of them immediately curled next to each other, like two puppies in a basket. She tucked her face into his shoulder, and his fingers stroked over the hair that peeked out beneath her mask fragment. 

Shunsui turned away.

“Aren’t you going to take the kimono back?” Starrk asked lowly.

Shaking his head, Shunsui stopped. He looked over his shoulder at them for a long moment. “Keep it,” he said. “It’ll be safer with you then out there.”

“You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?” the question came from Lilynette. There were no doubts which ‘him’ she was referring to.

Glancing towards the skies, Shunsui let out a long breath. “If we can,” he said.

“Good,” she said, her voice muffled. “He deserved it, after what he did.”

Shunsui itched to ask. He wanted to know why they had decided to turn their back and to fight so hard against Aizen, especially when neither of them seemed to expect being rescued and healed afterwards.

But there was a battle he needed to go to. And, if he played his cards right with Yama-jii, there would be plenty of time to ask later. They would have a story to tell.

And Shunsui loved listening to stories.

He drew Katen Kyokotsu, feeling her hum in his hands, tugging him towards the shadows. Making to follow her, he stopped suddenly at the sound of Starrk’s voice.

“I hope he’s coming back.”

“He’s too sneaky to get killed. That’s how he beat us. So he’ll be fine.” A pause, then softer: “I hope.”

Like lost children, clinging onto the sleeves of any adult who gave them kindness no matter how hard the whip swung in said adult’s hands.

At the corner of his eyes, he watched as the Tercera – her name was _Harribel_ , wasn’t it? – hovered around the healers trying to heal her fraccion.

Shunsui hoped that Aizen could be killed.

If only so he would go to hell in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of my inspiration comes from Aria6’s (on FFN, yes) fics about Starrk. The ideas about Starrk and Lilynette’s original form being female, the bit about Starrk’s weaponised reiatsu, Starrk’s power being able to dispel reality-warping shikai… all of them are adapted from her ideas to fit this story. I have a habit of unconsciously absorbing other people’s ideas and transforming them into my own. Thank you so much for writing about my favourite character, Aria6! And I hope you like what I did with them (if you read this)!


	2. Double and Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starrk wakes up. He finds two swords, two Captains, and some difficult questions waiting for him. Oh, and Lilynette.

Starrk woke up to white.

He was starting to really hate the colour in the past few months. It was always what surrounded him whenever he opened his eyes. Sometimes he could see brighter colours out of the corner of his eyes from his cushions, but now they all seem rather far away from him.

Letting out a breath, he made to close his eyes again. Maybe Lilynette would let him have a few more minutes of sleep… Wait.

Something was very wrong. There was complete, utter silence in his head. It wasn’t supposed to be this way; even when Lilynette was asleep when he wasn’t, he could still feel her, a constant buzz at the back of his mind, almost like muffled snoring.

Was she called to the throne room? What could Aizen-sama have needed her for?

Starrk blinked. If Aizen-sama had taken Lilynette to the throne room, then it meant that he should have woken up hours ago and had probably missed a meeting. He should probably wake up and go get her. He dragged his hand through his hair, opening his eyes fully.

And that was when he saw the pink. There was a pink kimono draped over his form, its colours bright and gaudy over the white sheets. He didn’t have sheets in his room; he didn’t _want_ to have a bed. And the kimono…

He recognised this. And, in that moment, the memories slammed right back into his head.

_Neither of them ever wanted to be the single Hollow again. Not now, not ever. Because it meant that they would be alone again._ _Even if they shared the same mind, they couldn’t…_

“Lilynette?”

The sound of his own voice echoed around the room. He was alone. He was completely alone. She wasn’t there anymore. The annoying buzz in his mind and the even more irritating presence by his side… Starrk remembered the moments he spent hoping, _wishing_ that the trick would work, just so Lilynette would be able to revive.

But she wasn’t here. He couldn’t hear her.

_We’ll go everywhere. Together.  
_  
Throwing off the blanket, Starrk stumbled out of bed. His chest was burning, pain spreading outwards, but it didn’t matter. He slammed the door open, tearing down the doorway, forgetting _pesquisa_ and _sonido_ in his sheer, utter panic.

“Lilynette!”

There were people around him – _people_? – trying to calm him down, reach out for him. But Starrk pushed past them. He reached out futilely for the bond between them, for the connection inside his mind that told him that she was there, but there was only emptiness.

“Lilynette!”

She couldn’t be dead. There was no way she was dead. He had heard her, _felt_ her, right before he fell unconscious.

“Starrk?”

That was her voice. He turned around.

Lilynette was dressed in a pretty, dark green yukata with pink flowers at the bottom. She stood at the doorway of one of the private rooms, her single eye wide as she stared at him. Starrk opened his mouth, but he couldn’t say a word; couldn’t find any that could encompass the sheer relief he felt at seeing her. 

She started to move, but Starrk was faster. They slammed together in the doorway, her mask fragment impacting against his ribs, sending pain screaming through his nerves. Starrk gasped, but he didn’t push her away. Instead, he pulled her even closer, feeling her warmth and solidity against him. 

She was real. She was still alive.

“You stupid lazy bastard… you kept sleeping even after I woke up. The stupid Shinigami told me you were in a ‘coma’ or something, but you were just being lazy, weren’t you?” 

He really missed how she could insult him even when she was hugging him.

There were people staring at him. Starrk sighed, lifting his head from Lilynette to meet two pairs of too-familiar eyes. The Captain with the long white hair was sitting on the bed, and, beside him on the opposite side from Starrk was the one who nearly killed him.

Starrk lifted up the pink kimono he had been dragging around the hallway.

“I came to return this and take something of mine back,” he said, trying to keep his voice even.

Lilynette punched him on the shoulder. “I don’t _belong_ to you, dammit!”

Starrk fell immediately to his knees. The punch wasn’t particularly hard, not like her usual kicks, but the small spark of pain made _everything_ come back and beat his face in. He groaned and fell over onto his back, right on the floor. He wasn’t meant for so much exertion right after he woke up… He closed his eyes for a moment.

The murmuring from the outside grew louder. He heard footsteps. He ignored all of it.

“Starrk?”

“Mm?”

“You’re really here, right? I’m not dreaming?” There was a note of insecurity in her voice. Starrk reached up, rubbing a hand over her helmet.

“Mm.”

“… I still can’t feel you, Starrk.”

Slowly, Starrk opened his eyes. He looked at Lilynette’s single one before he let out a long, low breath. “I can’t feel you either,” he admitted.

Lilynette stared at him. She scooted closer, still on her knees, and he lifted an arm for her to tuck herself right into his side. It didn’t matter that they were on the floor; they had slept in worst places, back in Hueco Mundo. In fact, sleeping sound like a good idea right now, especially with that kimono as a blanket…

“If you tell us what you were talking about, then maybe we can help,” a familiar and irritating voice said, sounding far too close. The muttering voices were gone.

Starrk cracked open an eye. He stared up at the man standing over him. What was his name again? He should remember it, but he had never been very good with names.

“You figure it out, taichou-san,” he murmured, eyes sliding shut.

“How rude!” the Shinigami laughed. Instead of taking offense, however, he simply dropped himself down to sit beside them. “Don’t I get some kind of repayment for the loan of my kimono?”

“I brought it back, didn’t I?” Starrk waved a hand. “Besides, you can guess, so I’m not going to bother.”

“He’s right, Kyouraku,” the white-haired Captain said.

Kyouraku let out a gusty sigh, sounding put-upon. “Well, the two of you have some kind of mental connection, in which you feel what each other feel, and you’re always aware of the other person’s presence. Right?”

“Mm,” Starrk said agreeably. There was somewhat more, but that covered the basic gist.

He watched as the two Shinigami exchange a glance.

“Well, we _might_ have a possible answer to your question,” Kyouraku said. “But I think we’ll give that once the two of you get off of the floor.”

“Nope,” Lilynette said, burrowing even deeper to his side. 

“It can’t be comfortable?” White-haired Captain said. “And we have perfectly serviceable extra beds right here in the room.”

“It’s comfortable,” Lilynette insisted.

“You’re blocking the door.”

“We don’t care.”

She was getting into a _mood_. And, honestly, Starrk was too: he wished that he could just sleep here. Maybe the two Captains could continue talking so Starrk could fall asleep while listening to the voices of other people… He had never done that before – the other Espadas’ wings were far from his, and none of the Numeros ever came to his – and it would be nice… 

But the floor _was_ cold and hard, and his chest was hurting again. Starrk sighed, shifting slightly. “Let’s just move. They’re not going to let us alone until we do.”

“I don’t wanna,” Lilynette retorted immediately. But she opened her eye, peering at him before reaching out and pressing her small hand over his chest. “Does it still hurt?”

Starrk nodded.

“Okay then,” she nodded, sitting up. “Only because you’re a big baby.”

He cracked a small smile before standing up. Kyouraku and the white-haired Captain both watched them as they moved over to one of the closest beds, slumping down immediately. Starrk was tempted to simply lie down, but those two promised to show him something.

“I think they left them back in your rooms,” Kyouraku said. Starrk opened his mouth to ask what ‘them’ were, or even who ‘they’ were, but Kyouraku was already gone in a burst of _shunpo_.

Damn, but he was getting really tired of him doing that.

But Kyouraku came back almost immediately, and in his hands were… two swords? He walked over to their bed, and Starrk unconsciously pulled Lilynette closer to him, eyes narrowing at the other man.

“These suddenly appeared on your bedsides when Lilynette-chan here first woke up,” Kyouraku said. Starrk tensed as he brought the swords closer, but he only sat them on the sheets. “I think something happened to the two of you after you… split apart again.”

The swords were a _daishou_ set – a _wakizashi_ with a _katana_. Starrk picked up the longer blade – it seemed more suitable for him than Lilynette – and look at it. It looked almost exactly like the plain sword that he carried around his hip, but there was a design on the _tsuba_ : teeth like his mask fragment around the edges of the border, and flame markings like Lilynette’s within.

Lilynette had pulled away from him slightly to reach out for the _wakizashi_ , holding it in her hands. Starrk glanced over at the _tsuba_ – the design was the same.

“… Hah,” he said, because there was nothing else that could be said.

Kyouraku had dragged over a chair and was sitting next to their bed, watching them.

“You said that Lilynette-chan here is the manifestation of your zanpaktou, Starrk-san,” he said softly. “But I think… after what you did, the two of you split to become two separate souls, and the swords in your hands are your _real_ zanpaktou now.”

Starrk opened his mouth, but Lilynette beat him to it.

“I don’t want that!” she cried. She tossed the sword away, pushing herself away from it. “I really don’t want that!”

“Lilynette,” Starrk tried.

“I don’t want to leave you, Starrk! You promised… we _both_ promised…”

He looked at her helplessly, uncertain of what he could say. It had never happened before; he had always _known_ what she felt, her emotions a constant weight, like a soft blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He had never _once_ felt so completely, utterly loss for words when it came to the other half of his soul.

Slowly, Starrk started to reach out for her.

“You’re being a little hasty, Lilynette-chan,” Kyouraku interrupted. Starrk’s hand dropped back to his side, turning his head to stare at him. 

“Your swords… I have never once seen two separate zanpaktou with the same _tsuba_ design,” he continued gently. “Even between identical twins, the designs are different.

Starrk didn’t know what to think.

“From what I’ve heard from Lilynette-chan and Kyouraku, the two of you come from the same soul,” the white-haired Captain picked up the thread, voice soft. “I don’t think there could be _anything_ that can break the connection between the two of you.”

“There was one,” Starrk said dully. “You did it, taichou-san.”

Kyouraku looked startled, and Starrk noticed a curious guilt that flashed across his eyes.

But it was Lilynette’s fist that smacked the back of his head.

“Ow!”

“Don’t be silly, Starrk! I wasn’t dead! I was just knocked unconscious because _he_ ,” she levered a dirty glare at Kyouraku, “made me explode in my own face!”

The guilt grew even stronger. “I–”

Starrk held up a hand. “Don’t make apologies you don’t mean, taichou-san,” he told him wryly.

Kyouraku blinked before he chuckled. Tipping his head back, he grinned at his fellow Shinigami. “See, Ukitake, I told you! He has my number after just one day!”

“You’re not that difficult a person to figure out,” Starrk shrugged.

The white-haired Captain – _Ukitake_ , right – burst out laughing. His shoulders shook, and he coughed a little before he shook his head. 

“That’s the first time I’ve heard anyonesay _that_ about Kyouraku,” Ukitake said, smiling widely. “You really are quite something, Starrk-san.”

“Thanks,” Starrk drawled. Honestly, there must be something wrong with these two Shinigami; he had never heard anyone else _praising_ their opponents as much as they tend to.

Though… were they still opponents? Starrk wasn’t sure. His hand was still clenched around his (?) new sword, but he realised that, while Kyouraku still had his own two blades on his hip, his hands had not once drifted to them during this entire conversation.

He rubbed at his own eyes. His head was spinning again.

“Say, Starrk-san…” Kyouraku said, sounding tentative beneath the casual tone. “There’s something that has been puzzling me for a while.”

“What?”

“I can somewhat understand why some of the other Arrancar would follow Aizen, but from what I know of you and Lilynette-chan here… Surely you knew the kind of man he is? Why did you still follow him?”

Starrk’s eyes widened. He knew that the Shinigami would ask that eventually, but he didn’t think it would be so soon, and so _baldly_. His fingers twitched at his side, and he looked down, meeting Lilynette’s gaze.

_He had been the only one who could come near us for decades_. _He offered us strong companions._

_… He was kind to us. Even though he was cruel to the others, he was kind to_ us _._

But then the kindness in Aizen’s eyes was exposed to be a lie in the end.

_“Do you know what selfishness means, Starrk? It means to take without giving back.”_

_“Am I really asking for so much in return?”  
_  
“We owed him a debt,” Lilynette said eventually. “That’s all.”

Starrk stared blankly at the wall.

“Did you repay it?” Ukitake asked.

“He tried to kill Harribel,” Lilynette told him, voice small. “There just isn’t a debt after that.”

“Ah,” Ukitake said. He sounded as if he understood, but Starrk wondered if he really did. These two Captains acted like they had known each other for most of their lives; there was no way they could understand the sheer desperate need for companionship, for _any_ type of companionship.

They wouldn’t understand what it meant to have their only hope being snatched away by the person who promised it to them, all right before their eyes.

“If you’re done asking, I’m going back to sleep,” Starrk stated flatly.

“There’s just one more thing,” Kyouraku said, sounding apologetic. “Actually, it’s the question that everyone wanted to ask since Lilynette-chan here woke up, but she said she didn’t know.”

Lilynette heaved a sigh. “They want to know how we managed to break Kyouka Suigetsu’s Complete Hypnosis,” she told her other half, sounding put upon.

Ah. Starrk looked at her. “You’re being lazy,” he accused. “You could’ve told them.”

“I couldn’t!” she snapped. “I’m a little better at doing that than you are, but I’m no good with explaining.”

“‘That’?” Ukitake asked, sounding mildly curious.

Starrk looked at him. He supposed that it wouldn’t hurt to answer his questions; he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep now anyway.

“Uh…” Starrk scratched the back of his neck. “It’s like… with any kind of illusions, or even a change in the environment, what the zanpaktou does is to basically… uh… cast a kind of a net over the surroundings using the wielder’s reiatsu.” 

He paused, lifting his eyes to meet Kyouraku’s before shrugging a little. “You should know what I’m talking about. Your shikai is like that too. A net over the entire surrounding area to bend it to your zanpaktou’s will.”

Kyouraku nodded.

“Kyouka Suigetsu is a little different,” Starrk continued. “It isn’t like a net. It’s more like a… spider’s web, because what it does is to use Aizen’s reiatsu to trap the reiatsu of every single person in the area within it.”

“Aizen is like a giant spider,” Lilynette piped up. “And his sword is like the thread-spinning thing in his butt.”

Ukitake and Kyouraku blinked. Starrk smacked Lilynette at the back of her head, groaning into a hand. 

“Ow! What was that for?” 

“For what you said!”

“You’re the one who is using the metaphor! I’m just adding onto it!” she whined.

“Quiet,” Starrk growled. “Do you want to take over explaining?” 

“No,” she pouted, but he ignored her.

The Captains were laughing. Starrk blinked at them, cocking his head to the side. Were they laughing because of the two of them? If they were… he ducked his head to hide the smile tugging at the sides of his mouth. It felt nice, to have people laughing at what he and Lilynette said.

Laughter – real, mirthful laughter without any mockery – was so rare in Las Noches. And before that, Starrk had only ever heard Lilynette laugh.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ukitake chuckled. “It’s just… well, we’ve never thought of it that way, certainly!”

“It’s a rather hilarious image, to be sure,” Kyouraku added. “But please, continue.”

Starrk peered at them through his hair before he nodded. “Okay, so… all Arrancar have a thing called _pesquisa_ ,” he said. “It’s what we use to find people and figure out their power levels. We basically… send out a pulse of energy, and wait for it to bounce back.” 

He looked at Lilynette; this was her part. 

“My _pesquisa_ is completely awesome,” she chirped. “If I _really_ concentrate, I can actually _see_ reiatsu and its threads. Most of the others, even Starrk here,” she elbowed him in the ribs, “can only sense it, like… I don’t know, light when you close your eyes? But I can see it really clearly!”

“Stop bragging,” Starrk protested half-heartedly. Then he picked up the explanatory thread again before she could protest.

“So we could see the spider’s web, because Lilynette could see it. And all we need to do after that was pretty simple: we broke the web completely by punching at each individual thread with raw power until the whole things collapsed.”

Lilynette spread out her hands. “ _Boom_! The Complete Hypnosis is now Broken Hypnosis!”

The Captains exchanged a loaded look. Starrk shifted slightly, feeling uncomfortable as the silence dragged on.

“Starrk-san…” Kyouraku said eventually. “If you could do that, then why didn’t you break _my_ shikai?”

_Because I didn’t want to kill you_.

“You weren’t listening again!” Lilynette complained. She took her _wakizashi_ and smacked the Shinigami hard on the head while Starrk stared in horror, all of his words immediately swallowed. “I’m the one who can see it, and I was stuck in the guns and the wolves!”

“We can only do it in that form,” Starrk added quickly, grabbing Lilynette and stopping her from jumping out of the bed to smack Ukitake. “And we’re never going back to that form again.”

“Ow,” Kyouraku said mildly, rubbing at his head where the sword had landed. “You’re so violent, Lilynette-chan.”

“I’ll _show_ you violent!” she threatened, trying to struggle out of Starrk’s grip. “Then maybe you would listen to us properly!”

“Lilynette! Stop hitting people!”

“Well,” Ukitake spoke up suddenly, his voice interrupting Lilynette’s incoming tirade. “I don’t think there will be a need for the two of you to go back to that form again, Starrk-san, Lilynette-chan.”

Starrk didn’t bother to hide the relief on his face. “Good,” he said quietly. Beside him, Lilynette calmed down, immediately clinging to his side.

Neither of them ever wanted to be alone again. Even if they could hear each other in their minds, it wasn’t the same as being able to hear each other’s voices, to feel each other’s warmth. Even if everything ended up with the two of them alone in Hueco Mundo again, they would at least be together.

There wouldn’t be complete silence again.

“You can stay here, you know,” Ukitake said. Starrk stared at him, startled, and Ukitake’s smile was soft and kind. It was almost like Aizen’s, but so much more sincere.

“That is, only if you want to.”

Somehow, Starrk suspected that he was talking less about staying here, in this room, than _here_ , in Soul Society. He swallowed, not knowing what to think about that.

“Okay,” he said finally.

“He’s just too lazy to walk back,” Lilynette declared. But she wasn’t kicking him to move either.

Starrk slumped onto the bed, letting out a long breath. His body still hurt, but it was a nagging thing at the back of his mind.

“Sleep well, Starrk-san,” Kyouraku said.

“You should take your kimono back,” Starrk said, looking up at the other man.

Kyouraku laughed.

“I think that I’ll keep it here a little longer,” he grinned. “Eventually you’ll realise that pink is really your colour.”

“Your jokes are getting really old, taichou-san.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have several things planned for this… series that I want to explore. It’s actually a huge AU in my head starting from the end of the Fake Karakura Town Arc all the way to the Thousand Years of Blood War Arc. The idea that started it off was ‘how much would things change if Starrk has survived and has been taken to Soul Society’? The answer was: 'quite a bit, but not as much as you might think'.
> 
> ... And somehow, during writing, I found myself way more fascinated by Starrk's past and begin to write more and more about it. Welp. _Welp_.


	3. Power Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starrk, Lilynette, Shunsui, and Harribel search for Nel. Somehow, they find Grimmjow on the way. And Grimmjow ruins everything, like he always does.

“In view of the continued absence of Central 46, the decisions regarding Shinigami-Hollow hybrids have been made through voting by the Captains and Vice-Captains of Seireitei, the ones who are most directly affected by the conflict.”

Starrk leaned forward, arms folded over the wooden railing surrounding the so-called ‘accused bench’. Lilynette sat beside him, Harribel beside her, flanked – as always – by her fraccion. His other half looked at him, and though he knew he looked like he was dozing off, she didn’t kick him. They might not be able to feel each other’s emotions in their minds anymore, but they knew each other’s body language better than anyone else. Than even their own.

And Starrk knew he was tense. He didn’t trust the Shinigami, especially when it came to their lives. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if they decided that all of them were to be executed.

“In view of the final outcome of the battle between the Visored Kurosaki Ichigo,” the old man with the long beard and fire in his sword nodded to the young orange-haired boy, “and the traitor Aizen Sousuke…”

Aizen had been nearly obsessed with Kurosaki, for reasons Starrk had never tried to fully figure out. He pried his eyes open further, looking across the room at the boy. Unlike the Arrancar, the boy was seated amongst his friends, practically surrounded by Captains and Vice-Captains. Starrk envied him. 

Lilynette shoved an elbow to his ribs. She shook her head – it wasn’t time to linger on sad thoughts now – and he turned his attention back to the Captain-Commander. The man was deciding whether or not he was going to die; he really should listen.

“… As well as the efforts made by Coyote Starr to–"

“OI!”

“The efforts made by Coyote Starrk _and Lilynette Gingerbuck_ ,” the old man stressed her name, giving her a slit-eye look at the interruption which she promptly ignored, “to defeat the aforementioned traitor…”

Harribel was tense beside him. Starrk’s hand twitched.

“As well as Tier Harribel and her fraccion’s confessions and cooperation during this period of discussion…”

The old man spoke so slowly. Starrk placed an arm around Lilynette’s shoulders, trying to calm her fidgeting.

“The Captains and Vice-Captains have decided, on a vote of ten to six, with four abstaining, to allow them to go free.”

Starrk tightened his grip. There must be some kind of conditions for that.

“Furthermore, we have decided that all of the law banning Shinigami-Hollow hybrids will be overturned,” the old man held up a hand. “All of the aforementioned accused, as well as the Visored who had aided us during the war with the traitor Aizen Sousuke, will be given freedom to live in the Living World or Hueco Mundo if they so wished.”

There was no cheering. But Starrk practically felt Harribel’s tension snap loose beside him; felt the wind in the air from the small storm of relieved sighs. He slumped slightly, one hand fiddling with the heavy reiatsu-inhibiting bracelets around his wrists.

(Apparently Kyouraku had convinced them to use bracelets instead of a collar in view of Starrk’s mask fragment. Starrk had no idea why the man actually made the effort, but it was appreciated: it would be stupid for him to die because of the weight of a collar had broken the ring of teeth.)

Well, that probably meant that he and Lilynette would be wandering the wasteland on their own again. He supposed that was fine. Maybe Harribel and her fraccion would allow the two of them to visit them, wherever they decide to settle down. Starrk knew how to control his spiritual pressure now…

“With the exception of Kurosaki Ichigo, had has already stated his wish to return to the Living World, any hybrid who wish to stay in Soul Society on a permanent basis are welcome to do so if they have sponsors amongst the Captains or Vice-Captains.” 

Starrk’s eyes widened. He exchanged a glance with Lilynette. In that moment, their single thought was: 

_What?_

“I volunteer as sponsor for Coyote Starrk and Lilynette Gingerbuck,” a clear voice rang out. Starrk watched, nearly gaping, as Ukitake stepped forward.

“I, too, volunteer as sponsor for Coyote Starrk and Lilynette Gingerbuck,” Kyouraku stepped forward, smirk clearly visible beneath his usual straw hat.

“Eh?” Lilynette blurted. “Why?”

The old man ignored her, turning his narrow gaze to the two Captains in front of him. “Perhaps I should clarify,” he said, tone as frosty as the kid-Captain’s bankai. “One sponsor for _each_ hybrid.”

“But Yama-jii,” Kyouraku drawled. “They are technically one being, so there are _two_ sponsors for one.”

Ukitake winked at them. Starrk tried not to twitch. Or even think about the two separate swords that were now in the custody of the man who was now lying, bald-faced, to his superior.

“Between my illness and Kyouraku’s… eccentricities, I’m sure that we will need both of us for the two of them.”

The old man’s eyes, already slits, narrowed even further. His two Captains met his stare evenly, one with a bright and guileless smile, the other with a wide grin.

“Fine.”

“Looks like you two managed to find some champions,” Harribel murmured, sounding slightly amused. Starrk glanced over to her, raising his eyebrows.

Harribel wasn’t nearly as silent as she seemed to be. She just had a tendency to speak _really_ softly unless she wanted to be heard, or if she was on the battlefield. Starrk had caught her mumbling once or twice during meetings before, usually about something she found amusing or idiotic. Usually, it involved Grimmjow or Nnoitra.

Now he only looked at her before sighing, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

“I guess so,” he said.

“If there are no other matters, you are all dismissed.”

“There is one more,” Harribel said, suddenly raising her voice. She stood from the bench – and Starrk noted the small woman Captain and the kid-Captain’s hands immediately going to their swords – before leaning against the railing that separated them from the rest as well.

“Firstly, do the laws apply to all of the Arrancar?”

The old man turned towards her, fixing his age-old eyes on her. “Who is it that you ask about?”

“The former Tercera Espada, Neliel Tu Oderschwanck,” Harribel replied promptly. “She—”

“Nel?!” the Kurosaki kid interrupted. “You knew Nel?!”

Harribel looked at him for a long moment before she nodded. “Yes. She was Tercera during my time as Segunda.”

… Before Starrk’s arrival to Las Noches, then. He slumped back on his seat, eyes half-lidding. The following discussion had nothing to do with him, but he noted that Kurosaki had some kind of invested interest in this Arrancar whom he had never met, and so did Inoue Orihime. He couldn’t imagine why, really, and though part of him was curious, it seemed that this particular story would take too much effort to figure out.

He wasn’t going to bother…

“Lilynette Gingerbuck.”

Next to him, Lilynette practically fell off her seat in shock at being directly addressed. She stared at the old man blankly before Starrk knocked the side of her head.

“… Yes?”

“I was told by Kyouraku that your reiatsu-sensing ability is rather exceptional.”

Lilynette blinked. “Uh… I guess so?”

“You, and Coyote Starrk, are now tasked to go to Hueco Mundo and retrieve Neliel Tu Oderschwanck, as well as any Arrancar who might remain. If Kurosaki Ichigo’s words are correct, ‘Nel’ would be in the form of a young child due to an injury. Bring her here for medical treatment.”

… What the hell had he missed by tuning out? Starrk looked between the old man and Lilynette for a long moment.

“Is there a problem with the order?”

There was a rebellious crease between Lilynette’s brows. Starrk immediately shoved her head down, half-bowing as well.

“No sir. We will do so.”

Even though he seemed to have missed a great chunk of information, Starrk wasn’t stupid; he knew what the old man was planning. 

“Kyouraku will accompany the two of you. You will leave tomorrow, accompanied with Tier Harribel and her fraccion.” 

“Yes, sir.”

This wasn’t just a search-and-retrieve mission; this was a _test_ disguised as one. Starrk should’ve known that trust wouldn’t be easily earned between the Shinigami and the Hollow, and now they wanted to know if he would obey. If his loyalties to the people who were willing to take them in were greater than to ones he had to his race; if their use for him could outweigh the potential threat. _  
_  
That was fine. He was used to tests of obedience. Aizen had been terribly good with them, after all.

“Dismissed.”

He knew, too, what 

As he walked out of the courtroom, Starrk rubbed his tongue over the fang. The skin split, and the taste of iron covered his tongue.

It was preferable to the bitter disappointment.

For once, he wished that someone could see him and Lilynette as more than their potential usefulness as tools.

*

Harribel sent her fraccion off to find a new den the very moment that they stepped into Hueco Mundo. All three of them looked like they would protest, but she shook her head, and they left the remaining four of them alone.

With the range and accuracy of Lilynette’s _pesquisa_ , it didn’t take very long before they found traces of Nel’s reiatsu. It was pretty weak, and accompanied by another, slightly stronger, reiatsu. Kyouraku had theorised that it was Nel’s ‘brothers’ that Kurosaki had talked about, but Starrk wasn’t sure.

He might not be able to read Lilynette’s mind anymore, but her slight frown when she reported the second reiatsu, as well as the little glances she kept sneaking at Kyouraku, were telling enough.

Sure enough, it wasn’t.

Starrk stepped forward, neatly shoving Lilynette – who was taking point – out of the way. He wasn’t allowed a sword, but the claws coming towards him were completely mindless, and he grabbed hold of the bone-covered wrists and pinned the other Arrancar down on the sand almost immediately. The heavy stone of his bracelets – one now engraved with a bird of paradise flower, the other with a snowdrop – smacked loudly against the bone.

“Grimmjow,” he said. “It’s me.”

The snarling face grew even closer to him. Starrk sighed, and he slammed Grimmjow down into the sands, straddling the other man. Shifting his grip until he’s holding both wrists in one hand, he pressed it hard against the ground before he gripped onto long blue hair and pulled it back until the throat was exposed.

“ _Grimmjow_.”

All he got in response was a growl and teeth being snapped at his face. Starrk reared back slightly, but didn’t let go.

Harribel walked over to his side. Without a word, she dropped down next to him, pressing her hand over Grimmjow’s throat. Unlike Starrk, her restraints had been removed the moment she had left Soul Society.

Even through the dampening bracelets, Starrk could feel the heavy pulse of reiatsu that she used to cut off Grimmjow’s air.

“Give up already,” Starrk said impatiently. “You’re making me tired.”

He watched those blue eyes carefully. Slowly, they focused again, staring at the two of them. Harribel removed her hand.

“Starrk? Harribel?” Grimmjow’s voice was hoarse, as if unused to forming words. “What the hell are you two bastards doing here?”

Starrk’s hand tightened on the long blue hair, jerking Grimmjow’s head down until their eyes met.

“I’m not going to let you go until I know that you have your mind back,” he stated.

Grimmjow stared at him. Then he pulled his lips back and snarled at Starrk, fangs gleaming underneath the cold twilight moon above. Out of the corner of his eyes, Starrk saw Kyouraku put his hands on his swords. He shook his head.

“I think I’ve figured out what you’re doing here,” Grimmjow said, mockery dripping from his words. “The Shinigami sent you to fetch me back and you obeyed, like some puppy playing fetch.” He shook his head.

“You’re a fucking _waste_ of the power you’ve got.”

“He has his mind back,” Harribel commented dryly. “The same insults, as always.”

Starrk sighed, leaning back and letting go. The moment he did, Grimmjow was covered in smoke as he reverted back to his sealed form, sword appearing by his side. He was covered in sweat and barely-healed wounds that were starting to bleed again. Starrk winced at the sight.

“We’re not here for you,” Harribel said quietly. “We’re here for Neliel.”

Grimmjow sat up immediately, lips drawing back into a snarl. He didn’t get halfway there before Harribel’s hand pressed over his face and shoved him back to the ground.

“Learn to _listen_ before you act,” she said, her voice turning into a low growl. “You can’t beat either of us right now.”

“Harribel,” Starrk said tiredly. “Don’t make him go feral again.”

Harribel’s eyes flickered towards him for a moment before she nodded, loosening her grip on Grimmjow’s face, giving him room to breathe. When he didn’t immediately struggle, she let go completely. He sat up immediately, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“Talk,” he demanded, looking from Starrk to Harribel and back again. Starrk shrugged, unfolding his legs and sitting on the sand before he allowed Harribel to take over the explanations.

“We’re here to find Neliel. I felt the full weight of her reiatsu sometime before we left for battle, and I know that she is alive. We’re going to bring her to Soul Society, where the Shinigami would try to heal her injuries and restore her back to her original form.”

“Why the hell would the Shinigami want to do that?” Grimmjow growled.

“Three reasons, really,” Kyouraku suddenly chimed in. He walked over and dropped down to meet Grimmjow’s eyes from underneath his straw hat. “One, we are learning that it is better to have potential allies than to get rid of potential enemies,” he started ticking off his fingers. “Two, the enemy of the enemy is our friend, and we have realised that Aizen has made enemies of quite a few within his own army.

“And three, Kurosaki Ichigo-kun made quite an impassioned speech in defence of her. ‘She has never been my enemy,’ he said. It was rather inspiring.”

Grimmjow seemed to have stopped listening at ‘Kurosaki’. He was trying to leap forward again, human-like hands curved into claws. Starrk grabbed his wrists and pulled him back down.

God, he _hated_ dealing with Grimmjow. It was so damned tiring.

“You’ll be taking a gamble,” he said quietly. “If you win, Neliel will be healed and restored; if you lose… well, _I’ll_ still be in Soul Society. I’ll probably be able to get her out.” He cocked his head. “And so will you, right?”

That wasn’t a difficult conclusion to come to. Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Yeah,” he growled. “If she goes, then so do I. I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

“What about her fraccion?” Harribel asked.

“They’re dead,” Grimmjow stated flatly. “I found her completely alone. They were probably killed when all the weak assholes started running out of Las Noches when it’s clear that Aizen wasn’t coming back.”

He shoved at Starrk before he jumped to his feet. Grabbing Pantera from the ground, he slipped it into the barely-there belt holding his ragged pants up.

“I’ll bring you to the den,” he said. His eyes narrowed at Kyouraku. “You stay far back, Shinigami. I don’t trust you.”

“Sure thing,” Kyouraku chirped cheerfully, falling back. Lilynette, silent all this while, stepped next to him. Starrk sighed as he followed her.

They were walking for a few minutes before Kyouraku finally stopped being able to contain his curiosity. Starrk was surprised by his restraint. 

“Say, Starrk-san,” Kyouraku started, eyes shining with unbearable curiosity. “Why didn’t you ask why he was with her?”

Lilynette snorted. “That’s a stupid question,” she said, digging her nose. She flicked a booger to the side, continuing, “It’s like asking where the light is coming from when the window is right there.”

Kyouraku’s expression did not change. Starrk sighed, placing a hand on Lilynette’s helmet.

“He was feral,” he said quietly. “When an Adjuchas goes feral, they give up their conscious mind and a lot of their reiatsu to become more powerful than they usually are. This only happens when a Hollow is weakened and sensed a threat to their survival, and many rarely do it because it might lead to regression.”

Not just their own survival, but to their mate’s or child’s as well; but Starrk wasn’t going to say that. He didn’t trust Kyouraku to not tell Soul Society that higher-level Hollows had just as many potential ‘weaknesses’ as any Shinigami. 

Let him think that Grimmjow was a special exception.

“His power levels were barely even a third of his usual,” he continued, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Even with the restraints, I’m far more powerful than he is. He could feel that. Usually, in a feral state, he would run immediately, pride be damned. Instead, he attacked without holding anything back, tearing open his wounds open in the process. He’s not fighting for his own survival.”

Kyouraku made a thoughtful noise. His eyes – far too perceptive – were fixed upon Starrk… and widened suddenly as Lilynette kicked him.

“What don’t you get? Grimmjow was obviously trying to protect Neliel, whoever she is.” She elbowed Starrk in the ribs for what she clearly saw as his slow, meandering explanation. “Which means she is important. Which means we’re bringing him back with her. Is that clear enough?”

She huffed.

“Yes, yes,” Kyouraku said, sounding amused and completely unfazed by Lilynette’s show of casual violence. Starrk wondered who it was exactly that had gotten him used to it.

Grimmjow brought them to a cave. Starrk blinked at it, reaching out to touch the stone of the mouth. Even with his senses dulled by the bracelets, he could tell that the stone muted reiatsu; anyone else with less skill than Lilynette wouldn’t be able to find Grimmjow or Neliel within it, especially with how weak the pulses were.

It seemed that Grimmjow was far more serious about Neliel than anyone else thought he was. Finding a cave like that surely had taken him a lot of effort, especially with those injuries and how little time had passed since the last battle.

Had it really been only two weeks? It didn’t feel like it.

“Stay here,” Grimmjow said, levelling a glare at all four of them. Starrk returned the gaze with hooded eyes. “I’ll ask her if she wants to come out.”

***

The sight of the blue-haired Arrancar – seriously, _blue_? – hovering around as Retsu-senpai ran a series of kido scans over the little green-haired girl was almost hilarious enough to make Shunsui laugh. But he swallowed it back, leaving the man alone and walking back to the waiting room, hands tucked in his sleeves.

Harribel had left immediately once Grimmjow had brought Neliel – or Nel, as she preferred to be called now – out. She took one look at the little girl, then at Grimmjow, and an entire conversation happened in a single gaze. Shunsui still wasn’t quite sure what had happened – Harribel had looked sceptical, Grimmjow defiant, but eventually, Harribel nodded and zipped off in _sonido_ without even a single ‘goodbye’. 

How curious. For all the effort that Harribel seemed to have put in to call for a search for Neliel, she didn’t seem to expend much effort to make sure that the girl was safe. 

Shunsui had meant to ask Starrk about it – since the ex-Primera seemed to be the one most likely to explain – but the other man had immediately claimed a chair in the waiting room and went right to sleep. Lilynette had tried to kick him awake for a while before getting bored and going off to explore, leaving Shunsui alone with no answers.

Of course, Shunsui could have stopped her from leaving, or even dragged her back. But he decided that he really wouldn’t like to alienate one of the newest members of Sereitei just yet. Besides, he had always been rather patient when it came to getting answers. 

“Oy, Shinigami.”

He lifted his head. Grimmjow was standing at the door of the waiting room, armed crossed and glaring at him.

“Arrancar-san,” he greeted mildly. “I’m surprised you left your charge’s side.”

Grimmjow grunted. He walked over to Starrk’s sleeping form, kicking him with a toe. Starrk didn’t even stir – Shunsui admired his dedication to sleeping as an art form – and the other Arrancar immediately lost interest.

“The woman with the stupid-looking braid kicked me out,” he said, sounding annoyed.

Shunsui stifled a laugh, unsurprised. If Retsu-senpai was able to tame the wildest members of the Eleventh Division – and had done so for over a thousand years – he supposed that one of the Espada was really no trouble for her.

“You should get your wounds healed as well,” he said.

“Eh?” Grimmjow blinked before looking down at his own body. Then he shrugged. “Nah, I’m not going to bother. But look, I’ve got to ask you something.”

“What is it?” Shunsui cocked his head to the side.

The man shifted. Shunsui watched, curious, as Grimmjow practically prowled over to him. He remembered the way Grimmjow looked in his unsealed form – like some kind of large cat – and could not help the small upward curl of his lips.

“Why the hell are you all helping us?” Grimmjow demanded. “Offering to heal Neliel… having Starrk here… letting Harribel go… hell, even letting the annoying little shit run around without supervision… what the fuck are you Shinigami planning, huh?”

No patience or tact at all, Shunsui mused. Of all the Arrancar currently and previously in Seireitei, Grimmjow had the least right to ask questions. Yet now the man had his face practically in Shunsui’s own, his lips drawn back into a snarl. Shunsui’s hand twitched by his side; he was so tempted to shove it right at Grimmjow’s face and push it away, but he knew immediately that it would be a bad idea.

His instincts told him that what Starrk and Harribel had done was only permissible by Grimmjow because of a whole series of ranks and rules that Shunsui was completely unaware of. If he tried to do the same, he would probably get a hand on his throat.

“I’ll answer that if you’d answer some of my questions, Arrancar-san,” he said instead.

“Keh,” he said. “Why should I?”

“An exchange of information,” Shunsui offered. “It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

Grimmjow looked at him for a moment before he shrugged, dropping down and sitting cross-legged on a chair near Shunsui. His eyes flickered towards Starrk for a moment before he looked at the man.

“So talk,” he demanded.

Shunsui didn’t acquiesce immediately. He tipped his hat backwards, staring up at the white ceiling of the Fourth Division for a long moment, calculating his words.

“We’re tired of war, Arrancar-san,” he said finally. “We had one two hundred years ago, and one before. Before of them had hurt our hearts badly to fight. War made both sides evil, and we are tired of being made evil by war.”

“That didn’t answer my question,” Grimmjow growled. “How the hell would you become evil by killing Hollows, eh? I thought that was your job.”

Shaking his head, Shunsui sighed. “The primary duty of the Shinigami is to help keep the three worlds in balance. We are to _purify_ Hollows, to send them to a better place. Somehow, throughout the years, we had forgotten all about that and started seeing Hollows as monsters to be killed.

“Recently, we have been taught otherwise.” His eyes flickered over to where Starrk was still napping. He wondered if the former Espada was really sleeping through the entire conversation, or if he was only pretending to. 

Grimmjow barked a laugh. “So you think of us as more than just animals and monsters now, huh? So what changed your fucking mind?”

“Well,” Shunsui said, voice deceptively light. “It’s all due to Starrk-san here, of course. He fought against Aizen during the final battle even after I cut him down.”

A series of expressions crossed over Grimmjow’s face in that one moment. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, so wide that Shunsui was worried he would catch flies. His eyes darted towards Starrk for a moment before he barked a loud, incredulous laugh.

“ _Starrk_ fought that bastard?” Grimmjow asked, leaning forward. “You’re lying your ass off, aren’t you?”

Shunsui wondered if Grimmjow realised that he had just given his feelings towards Aizen away from the name he used for him; if he had calculated those words. Likely not; he pulled down his straw hat until its shadow covered his eyes.

“I assure you, Arrancar-san, I wouldn’t lie about such a thing.”

“Hah,” Grimmjow said, chuckling under his breath. “Fucking unbelievable.”

Curiosity tugged Shunsui forward. “Why?”

“Because he’s the only bastard dumb enough to _like_ Aizen,” Grimmjow said, distaste clear in his face and voice.

Shunsui blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Look, all of us, we joined Aizen for our own reasons,” Grimmjow shrugging. He crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back. “Most of us are fucking selfish and we all just want power. Power’s important: if you don’t have enough, you end up as someone’s meal, you lose everything, or both. Just look at Barragan.”

He waved a hand. “In Las Noches, I’ve got them all figured out. All of them, except Starrk.”

Grimmjow glanced at the sleeping man before snorting under his breath. “I saw him coming in, him and Lilynette. Walking behind Aizen, docile as fucking _puppies_ , with their damned masks already broken. Bunch of the weak-ass Numeros started screaming and dying the moment he _walked in_. He was ripping them apart without doing anything.”

He shook his head. “Starrk didn’t need power. He’s got too fucking much of it already. So why the hell did he follow Aizen, huh? I never figured it out, especially with...” he trailed off.

Shunsui blinked. He cocked his head. “Especially…?”

The blue-haired Arrancar glanced again to the side before he shrugged. “It’s fucking boring in Las Noches, even for a bastard like Aizen. So he likes to entertain himself with us. We’re his tools.” He snorted, lips curving up into a smirk. “And Starrk was his favourite _toy_.”

_“Grimmjow_.”

Starrk was awake. He was sitting up, slumped over with elbows on his knees as his eyes half-lidded. Grey-blue slashes fixed upon Grimmjow’s face for a moment before Starrk sighed.

“Why did you start running your damned mouth off?” he said, words half-slurred.

Grimmjow started to grin, wide and full of teeth. “He said he’ll give me information,” he said, jerking his thumb towards Shunsui, nearly jabbing in the eye. “And see, he seems pretty interested in _you_.”

There was an insinuation within the last word that Shunsui didn’t understand.

Shunsui watched, fascinated, as Starrk’s eyes narrowed, the light beneath them focusing until they were a dark, stormy grey. “Fuck off,” he said, voice tight. “I’m not interested in your power games.”

“No?” Grimmjow barked another laugh, the sound harsh. “Maybe you shouldn’t have pinned me to the damned sand, eh? Maybe you shouldn’t have intruded into my territory in the damned place, huh?”

Starrk hisses out a breath. But when he spoke, his voice is still calm, almost dull. “You would rather Neliel stay the way she is, never remembering you, just for the sake of your pride?”

Immediately, Grimmjow shot up from his seat. He slammed a hand against Starrk’s throat, pinning him against the wall. Shunsui stood immediately, but Starrk didn’t even move, merely looking at Grimmjow from underneath half-lidded eyes.

“It’s okay, taichou-san,” he murmured. “Don’t get up.”

“I’m going to fucking _kill_ you,” Grimmjow growled, his grip tightening. “I’ll tear through that damned hierro of yours and snap your fucking neck. You don’t even _know_ anything about Neliel.”

“I don’t,” Starrk said quietly. “But I recognise a stupid bastard when I see one.”

“Hah!” Grimmjow sneered. “Better a bastard than a bastard’s willing _whore_.”

Shunsui couldn’t even see the punch coming. Grimmjow’s head snapped backwards, his hand loosening on Starrk’s neck. Starrk immediately kneed him in the ribs- and that was as far as got, because Shunsui had one sword against his neck, and the other over Grimmjow’s.

“I think that’s more than enough,” he said. Long experience kept his voice level and calm despite the way his head was buzzing from Grimmjow’s revelations.

“Arrancar-san,” he started. Grimmjow growled, and Shunsui changed tactics immediately. “ _Grimmjow-san_ , why don’t you go check on Nel-chan? The tests should be completed by now.”

Grimmjow stared at him, then down to the naked blade held against his throat. A calculating look came into his eyes as he looked between Shunsui and Starrk.

“Fine,” he said, jerking his head away. Slowly, Shunsui lowered the blade.

He turned to look at Starrk, who was staring at the wall. 

“Starrk-san?” he prompted.

“I won’t attack him again,” he said, sighing under his breath. His eyes flickered over to Shunsui, and Shunsui breathed in sharply through his teeth when he saw the utter emptiness there.

_We owe him a debt_ , Lilynette had said. Perhaps that was Lilynette’s reason, but what of Starrk’s? What the hell had Aizen _done_ to him?

Slowly, Shunsui dropped his swords back to his side. He kept them unsheathed, however, keeping his eyes on the two Arrancar in the room.

“Keh,” Grimmjow said, rubbing at his neck slightly. His gaze, when meeting Shunsui’s, was full of malevolence. Stepping forward, he leaned in close enough that his cold breath ghosted over Shunsui’s skin.

“He has a thing for Shinigami, you know,” he drawled, voice definitely loud enough to be overheard. “If you want him to spread his legs for you that badly, you just need to _ask_. No need for effort.”

Shunsui blinked at him. Even before he could ask what the hell Grimmjow was on about, the blue-haired Arrancar had already left the room.

He turned around, looking at Starrk. The other man was still seated, his shoulders slumped, and Shunsui took a step closer.

The sound of his footfall on the wooden floorboards had Starrk’s head snapping up immediately. He looked at Shunsui for a moment before he stood up, walking to the door.

“I’m going to find Lilynette, taichou-san,” Starrk announced.

“Will you come back here?” he asked, blinking at the complete lack of emotion in Starrk’s voice. 

“I don’t know the way to your division’s barracks from here,” he said quietly. “Will you wait? I won’t take long.”

“Of course,” Shunsui reassured immediately. “Take as long as you like.”

“Sorry.”

Before Shunsui could ask him what he was apologising for, Starrk was already walking down the hall. He considered chasing the other man down for two seconds before giving up the idea and sheathing both blades. Starrk would need some time alone, and if there was anyone who could make him feel better, it would be Lilynette. 

He slumped back on the chair, pulling his hat down over his eyes.

Briefly, he remembered comparing Starrk’s – well, Starrk’s _and_ Lilynette’s – original form to Hinamori. Immediately, he winced.

Sometimes he really, really hated that instinctive perceptiveness of his. But what he despised more was when he didn’t realise that he was _right_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, I’m actually getting somewhere with this. It only took 15k words.
> 
> Basically, my entire idea of Aizen and Starrk’s relationship comes out of this: if you take it for granted that Starrk doesn’t remember much before splitting from Lilynette, and that everyone who got close to them afterwards died before he knew everything about them, then Aizen is the _first_ non-Lilynette person he has ever met. 
> 
> Then consider: 1) Aizen’s manipulative psychopathy, 2) the fun Aizen would have with someone who is both incredibly powerful and very malleable, 3) the fact that Starrk is fucked up enough to think of the Espada as his companions and friends, and 4) the disjunction between Starrk’s extreme loneliness and his constant laziness and lack of sociability.
> 
> The equation I came up with is disturbs me to the extreme. Which means that I _have_ to write it.
> 
> Oh, also, I spell Nel’s full name as ‘Neliel’ instead of ‘Nelliel’ because in Spanish, ‘Nelliel’ would be pronounced ‘Ne-ji-el’, like in ‘Cero Metralleta’. It makes more sense for me this way.


	4. Answers Unasked, Questions Unanswered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starrk pays a visit to a prisoner. Then he and Lilynette test out their new swords. Shunsui makes an offer on behalf of Ukitake.

The chairs at the Fourth Division holding cells were made of flimsy wood, made less for comfort than to make sure that they couldn't be used as weapons. Starrk grabbed one of them, the thin wood clacking loud against the heavy stone restraints at his wrists, before he walked down the hallway to his destination.

He placed the chair down near the metal bars, facing away from the prisoner inside. Then he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and staring through the bars with half-lidded eyes.

The rail-thin man inside wore heavy stone cuffs on his forearms, binding them, and on his ankles. Thick metal links went from the wall to the ankle cuffs, making sure that he could barely move, much less escape.

“Now this is surprising, Starrk-chan,” Ichimaru Gin drawled. “Didn’t think you’d want to visit.”

Starrk made a noncommittal sound.

“Where’s Lilynette-chan?” 

“Not here.”

Ichimaru’s shoulders shook slightly as he laughed, the sound softly cackling. "What a pity. She's so much cuter than you are."

Starrk stepped forward, talking a seat on the chair with his back to Ichimaru. Closing his eyes, he waited Ichimaru out. The Shinigami might be a snake when hunting, but this was no hunt, and Ichimaru would be bored of the silence soon enough. Starrk wouldn’t be surprised if he already was. 

It took only five minutes before Ichimaru broke.

“So what are you here for, Starrk-chan?”

Opening his eyes, the Arrancar turned his head. Ichimaru’s face was barely inches from his own, lips stretched wide into his usual smile as he leaned against the bars of his cage. The chain around his ankle was stretched tight, hovering above the ground, but there was no discomfort on that narrow face.

“I wanted to ask you a question,” Starrk murmured. He watched as Ichimaru strain forward even further to catch his voice.

“Don’t leave me in suspense here,” Ichimaru said, smile curving up even further.

Starrk stood up. Grabbing the chair, he turned it the other way around, facing the prisoner. As he moved, his eyes caught sight of glass gleaming at the corner of his eyes: cameras. He expected nothing less from the Shinigami, really, so he only sighed, dragging a hand through his hair before he sat down again.

“When did you figure him out?” he asked.

There was only one person they could be discussing. Ichimaru cocked his head, his slit-like eyes opening a bare fraction. It was blue, the colour of ice, and Starrk couldn’t help but think that there was beauty in the colour: so alive, despite the lack of light.

The lids fell shut again. Ichimaru’s smile widened even further, nearly bisecting his face.

“When did _you_?”

Starrk shrugged; he expected this. “Very early, and too late,” he said.

Once, he thought he had no illusions about Aizen; thought that he _knew_ that the man cared about them as nothing as tools. Yet the aching disappointment he felt when Aizen said nothing about Barragan’s destruction still lingered; yet the rot-like heat in his chest when he saw Aizen try to cut Harribel down refused to go away, no matter how much he tried to push it out of his mind.

He might have fooled himself that he knew, but it didn’t mean that he _believed_. Not until the very last moment. If the roof hadn’t fallen in…

“Early enough to try to kill him,” Ichimaru pointed out cheerfully. “That’s quite a trick you pulled there, Starrk-chan.”

Rolling his shoulders in another half-hearted shrug, Starrk stifled a wince. Showing weakness in front of Ichimaru was like holding out a mouse in front of a snake with his bare hands.

“But that’s not really an answer,” the man continued.

“I suppose not,” Starrk admitted easily. “But you haven’t answered mine either; a question isn’t an answer.”

Ichimaru hummed thoughtfully under his breath. “I suppose not,” he said, his words a mocking repetition. “But then again, your question isn’t one I can answer.”

A long-fingered, skeletal hand reached out. Starrk’s breath hitched in his throat as the callused tips brushed over the very edge of his jaw.

He was moving even before he realised it, grabbing onto the skinny wrist and _shoving_ it back through the bars, far away from him. His eyes narrowed, lips thinning, and he didn’t resist the urge to dig his nails between Ichimaru’s wrist bones, forcing the hand to twitch open, like a spider caught in its own web.

“You see,” Ichimaru said airily, completely ignoring the flare of angry reiatsu in the air or the pain Starrk’s grip was surely causing, “I was never fooled in the first place.”

Slowly, blue eyes opened again. “The very first time I met him, he had already shown himself to be a monster,” he said, lips drawing back into a sharp smile, full of teeth. “I can’t really forget that face, you see.”

Ichimaru cocked his head. “But then… I knew how to recognise a man from a monster,” he said. “ _You_ didn’t, did you?”

Starrk let go of the wrist as if it was burning; burning like how sometimes Aizen’s skin burned. His hand fell back to his side, half-curled.

It was a mistake to come here. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

“I knew,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a lie.

He just didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Starrk had longed for companionship for so long, but he had never thought that being around people could hurt so much. The past few days had been a crash course in the deep-rending pain that living creatures could deal him, and Starrk ached for ignorance again. If he hadn’t known about the truth… if he didn’t know anything about the way people could lie and hurt with just their words, then…

Then what would he have done, really? Could he have lived for an eternity carefully moving around layers of layers of lies, trying his best to not break any of them? He knew he couldn’t; his mind was far too sharp for that.

His body folded back into the chair, falling like a house of cards. He couldn’t even wish to return to that empty loneliness of the desert; not when his ears had gotten used to the constant noise of chatter and breaths, when his eyes had gotten used to the sight of looking outwards and seeing movement more than the wisps of dust in the wind.

“That’s kind of hard to believe,” Ichimaru drawled. His chains clanked against the metal bars as he leaned against them.

“I don’t need you to believe me,” Starrk said, looking away.

“Then what are you here for?”

Starrk sighed. “Answers,” he said, heaving himself up from the chair. “But you don’t have any that I want. Besides…”

He hesitated. Although his _pesquisa_ wasn’t nearly as powerful as Lilynette’s, it was likely still better than any kind of reiatsu-sensing ability Ichimaru had with those chains on him.

“You have another visitor.”

Leaving the chair behind him, Starrk headed for the door. As he walked back up the steps, he saw a woman with strawberry-blond hair rushing down. The pink scarf draped around her shoulder caught his gaze with its brightness, and the blue of her eyes were of a far warmer shade than Ichimaru’s. He didn’t know her name, but he thought he might recognise her from the battle.

She stopped suddenly at the sight of him. Starrk stepped aside to allow her to pass, but she only stood there, staring. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked. Though her tone was polite, there was a slight hint of a threat, and her hands by his side seemed to reach for her sword.

He shrugged. “Visiting,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. His lips curled up into a wry smile.

She opened her mouth, but he raised a hand first. “You really should check on him first before accusing me of anything,” he glanced towards the badge on her arm, “fukutaichou-san.”

Giving him another distrustful glance, she rushed past him towards the cells. Starrk watched her, staying at the top of the steps until he could hear the indistinct sounds of their voices as they greeted each other.

The hidden warmth in them made his skin prickle.

_It’s not fair_ , a small voice spoke up within him. Starrk sighed, and started to walk out again. He noticed how the Shinigami he met in the hallways did their best to avoid him. He fixed his eyes above their head, walking out towards the sunshine.

Standing out there at the gates, Starrk allowed himself a moment of bitterness. He wasn’t a bad person; not worse than Ichimaru, at any rate. Yet he was still feared for the power he held, feared for the _thing_ that the Shinigami saw him as, while Ichimaru had someone who was clearly willing to put her own life in danger to protect him.

His chest hurt. He rubbed against it, at the edges of the gaping hole.

Perhaps all he could do was to wait for the pain to abate, to become a lingering, constant ache like loneliness had once been. Like a lost eye, tugging and pulling with every movement of his face, but which he could – perhaps – get used to and work around.

He could wait. He was used to waiting.

He had done nothing but for decades.

***

“Sometimes I really wonder if you make yourself sad on purpose.”

Starrk cracked an eye open. Lillynette stood in front of him, hands on her hips. She was still wearing another yukata, this time maroon with light green flowers at the bottom; she had reached what Starrk mentally named as her ‘yukata phase’, and honestly, he liked it much better than when she thought it fun to go around practically naked. Though he probably should figure out where she had gotten the things.

He hoped she wasn’t stealing again. It had taken him awhile to convince her that she couldn’t _just_ take whatever she liked, whenever she liked. 

“I’m not sad,” he yawned, sitting up. 

Lilynette snorted, clearly disbelieving. “Yeah, right. You can’t fool me.”

She started pulling at his clothes, trying to force him to stand up. “Look, get up and stop sleeping already. The pink bastard told us that we can practice with our swords today.”

“Stop calling him a bastard,” Starrk protested mildly. “He’s one of our sponsors.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not a bastard,” Lilynette countered.

“I’m hurt,” a voice said on the doorway. “My parents were married before I was born, you know.”

Kyouraku’s spiritual pressure felt like the first drop of water Starrk had ever felt on his skin. Cool and wet; he closed his eyes and listened deep, trying to find the soft bubbling of the brook that at times teased at his ears whenever he was in Kyouraku’s presence. Sometimes, he was tempted to dart out his tongue to taste, to see if the reiatsu would taste like the chilled water it felt like.

Or perhaps it would taste of bitter salt instead, and the bubbling of the water was not that of a clean mountain spring but an ocean, full of teeth and aching for blood. Starrk had learned his lesson about assumptions: the warmth he was once drawn to ended up being a searing-hot poker that nearly ripped his flesh from the bones.

Lilynette kicked him.

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” he yawned, exposing his fangs even as he dodged the next kick. “And taichou-san, I have no idea what you’re talking about.

“Yeah!” Lillynette chimed in, determined not to be left out. “What do your parents have to do with anything?” 

An odd look came over in Kyouraku’s eyes, and Starrk nearly winced. He had said something unexpected again.

“Say,” the Captain cocked his head. “How did you learn that insult, Lilynette-chan?”

She snorted. “Grimmjow and Nnoitra used it all the time on each other,” she told him carelessly. “And far as I know, they don’t have parents.”

“Well, in the past, ‘bastard’ used to be a far worse insult than it is now,” Kyouraku said. “To call someone a bastard is to imply that their parents were unmarried when they were born; that they are an illegitimate child.”

“… Hah,” Starrk said, because there was nothing else that could be said.

“I don’t get it,” Lilynette complained, far more vocal and easier with her displeasure than Starrk could ever be. “Why is being an illegi… illegitima… illegitimate child a bad thing?”

“For many reasons, really,” Kyouraku shrugged. “It was supposedly because adultery is bad, but I’ve always thought that it had more to do with property laws and inheritance than anything else.”

Starrk blinked slowly. “Taichou-san,” he said after a long moment. “I honestly have no idea what you just said.”

Kyouraku tapped his lip. “I suppose there aren’t any laws in Hueco Mundo,” he said slowly. “But what about property? How do you deal with things that belong to you?”

Lilynette laughed, a sharp little giggle. “We don’t _have_ things,” she said, plopping down to sit next to Starrk. “And I think, from the fights I’ve overheard, either you guard what’s yours or someone will take it from you.”

“Is that considered a law?” Starrk asked. He found himself truly curious, and more than a little confused. He still didn’t understand what the word ‘illegitimate’ meant – though he could guess that it had something to do with adultery, but that wasn’t helpful because he didn’t know what _that_ meant either – or what it had to do with having things. 

“That’s the definition of lawlessness, actually,” Kyouraku chuckled. He looked at the two of them for a moment before he shook his head.

“Ah, I don’t really know how to explain, and if I don’t get you out to the training field soon, Nanao-chan will be coming along to get me to do _paperwork_ ,” he grimaced at the word, and Starrk blinked. He knew what ‘paper’ was, at least, and he knew that there was generally lots of it on Kyouraku’s desk. 

Did ‘paperwork’ meant working with paper? What could working with paper mean? Did they have to fold it?

“How about I get you two some books to read?” Kyouraku offered, breaking Starrk out of his thoughts. “They can explain better than I can, and you’ll be less bored here.”

Starrk stared at him. Slowly, he rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. Beside him, Lilynette smacked a hand over her face.

“You should be ‘stupid bastard’ instead of ‘pink bastard’,” she scoffed. “We can’t read.”

“There are no books in Hueco Mundo,” Starrk said softly. He lifted his eyes, meeting grey eyes with his own.

“There is no wood for paper, no water for ink, no resin for glue… Tell me, taichou-san, why would you think that _any_ of us know how to read?”

Kyouraku walked towards them, half-kneeling until he was eye-level with Starrk.

“Because you would say things like these, Starrk-san,” the Captain said quietly. “Who taught you about how books were made?”

Starrk looked away. “Aizen,” he answered, and found it somewhat easier to swallow back the instinctive honourific. “He had a few books in Las Noches. And I asked about them once, because I have never seen them before.”

“Then there _are_ books in Hueco Mundo,” Kyouraku pointed out. “So why is it that you don’t know how to read?”

Why indeed. 

Starrk pushed himself away from the Shinigami, standing up and walking away. Stopping at the doorframe, he glanced at Kyouraku for a brief moment. “You ask questions that you already know the answer to,” he said softly. “You might have sponsored our stay here, but I am not obliged to play your games.”

And Kyouraku was definitely an ocean full of sharks. All Starrk had done so far was to make his entire body into a raw, open wound, waiting to be devoured.

*

Starrk was like a warzone, full of hidden landmines. Except that instead of exploding outwards, however, he seemed to have a habit of keeping the blast inwards. Shunsui tugged down the straw hat, letting shadows fall over his eyes as he looked at the lean figure of the ex-Espada walk out of the room.

He blinked, rather surprised when his vision was suddenly covered with blood and gore. He blinked again, and told his imagination to not be so terribly literal with his metaphors.

“Are you doing it on purpose?”

Shunsui blinked, turning to the little girl who was still seated next to him. Except… the single pink eye was levelling a gaze on him that didn’t look youthful at all.

“I don’t know what you mean, Lilynette-chan,” he tried for lightness.

Lilynette turned towards him, and the look she gave him was almost exactly like the calculating one Starrk had given him, just after his first sneak attack, eerie due to the youthfulness of her face.

“I can see what you’re doing by prodding him like this, over and over,” she said, her voice oddly serious. “And Starrk sees it too, even though he’s too nice to ever say it.”

She looked away for a moment before shaking his head. “Wait until he tells you.”

“So you know about it, then?”

Lilynette snorted, giving him a scornful look. “You _really_ have this shitty habit of forcing people to tell you what you already know,” she shook her head. “If you already figured out that we could feel each other in our heads, then the answer to that is _obvious_.”

Before Shunsui could reply, she was already standing up and stretching her arms over her head. 

“Any more stupid questions?”

“Just one more,” Shunsui grinned. “Would you like to learn to read? And write?”

She looked at him before her eye narrowed, suspicion practically vibrating off of her body. “What do we have to pay for it?”

“Nothing,” Shunsui replied honestly. He folded his arms inside his sleeves to hide the way they were clenching. 

Lilynette didn’t look as if she believed him. Her eye narrowed further.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be the one teaching the two of you,” he said, smiling slightly. “Ukitake would be, and I know him well enough to say that he would definitely be willing to teach you, and wouldn’t even think of charging you anything.”

“Keh,” she folded her arms, looking away. “We’ll think about it.”

Shunsui watched her as she left through the door, wondering what had made a child – for, despite all her protestations about her age, she _was_ one – so distrustful. 

His hands twitched inside his sleeves, nails biting into his palms.

Honestly, he thought himself too old for such things.

*

The sun’s heat was pouring down even more when Starrk stepped outside the barracks into the training grounds. Wincing, he raised a hand to shadow his eyes before looking around. Oddly enough, the place was deserted; shouldn’t be some kind of training drill happening at this very moment?

A woman walked towards him. She wore glasses that glinted brightly in the sunlight, and her hair was pulled back tightly into a bun. Starrk had seen her around the Division a few times, and he knew that she was Kyouraku’s Lieutenant. He blinked as she thrust two swords towards him, taking them automatically.

“Most of the Division have headed to the Thirteenth for a joint exercise,” she told him crisply, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Kyouraku-taichou and Ukitake-taichou have made the arrangements so that our unseated members will not be affected by your release.”

“Uh,” Starrk said. He blinked again, nearly wincing at the clear dislike and distrust shining through her eyes. “Thank you, fukutaichou-san.”

She nodded, business-like. “Ukitake-taichou will be here shortly,” she said before she hesitated for a moment. “My name is Ise Nanao.”

Starrk cocked his head to the side. “Coyote Starrk,” he offered, because she seemed to expect something in return. She opened her mouth, but before she could reply, a weight slammed straight into his back.

Nearly falling over, Starrk reached back and grabbed the collar of his smaller half’s yukata. Lilynette frowned at him, trying to kick his face, and he dropped her immediately.

“And this is Lilynette Gingerbuck,” he said.

“I already know your names,” Ise said. Before Starrk could say anything else, she was already walking away. He stared at her back for a moment before rubbing the back of his neck; what was it that he had said wrongly _this_ time?

“What’s up with _her_?” Lilynette huffed. 

“Don’t mind Nanao-chan,” Kyouraku said, and Starrk nearly jumped. The Shinigami had a tendency to walk silently, and his control over his own reiatsu was powerful enough to hide his presence entirely. 

“She didn’t see the two of you fighting, you see,” Kyouraku continued, shrugging. “So she doesn’t trust you just yet. But she’ll warm up to you both eventually, don’t worry about that.”

Starrk nodded even though he didn’t quite believe those words. How could he, really, when he seemed to have moved from having a manipulative bastard as Lord and Master to have another for his supposed sponsor?

Beside him, Lilynette made a disdainful sound. “Whatever,” she declared. Looking up to Starrk, she held out a demanding hand. “Give me my sword.”

Starrk tossed it to her. She immediately drew it, looking at the blade in her hand a little doubtfully, turning it over and over and staring at the reflection of herself within the metal. There was uncertainty shining in her eye, and Starrk wanted to ask what was wrong; it wasn’t like her.

But he was interrupted by Ukitake’s sudden arrival. 

“I’m glad that I’m on time,” the Shinigami said the moment he saw them. His smile was warm and sincere. “Hello, Starrk-san, Lilynette-chan.”

“Keh,” Lilynette said. She obviously still held some sort of strange grudge towards the Shinigami, though Starrk couldn’t tell what it was. She didn’t feel the same towards Kyouraku, and _he_ was the one who had nearly killed her.

Lilynette was his other half, part of his soul even though he couldn’t hear her in his head anymore. But sometimes, she was a complete mystery to him.

Turning his attention to the white-haired Captain, Starrk inclined his head. “Taichou-san,” he greeted.

He held out his hands.

Both Captains came towards him. Ukitake took his left wrist, Kyouraku his right, their fingers pressing right above the engraved insignias of their respective Divisions. They exchanged a glance before simultaneously sending a small pulse of reiatsu outwards. The stone absorbed the power, and Starrk watched, a little curious, as two identical lines appeared, bisecting the engravings, before the restraints broke open, falling onto the ground.

Power rushed through his body, making his skin itch as if his body was suddenly far too small. The air grew much heavier suddenly, thick and oppressive, as his ridiculous power exploded outwards when it couldn’t find enough space within his skin. Blue surrounded him, bright and glaring, and Starrk hissed a breath in through his teeth as he _pulled_ it all back within himself. The itching grew even worse, making him want to scratch long lines all over his skin until he bled.

He forced the urge from his mind.

Kyouraku was right to send his unseated Shinigami away. If there were any of them in the vicinity, the first rush would have sent all of them to their knees.

Starrk slowly opened his eyes. Lilynette was looking at him solemnly – she didn’t have to wear any reiatsu-suppressing restraints, because the Shinigami thought whatever she had was far too weak. _He_ was considered the far bigger threat.

He released that thought with the next breath. There was no point in thinking of such things now.

“Let’s go, Starrk,” Lilynette said. There was the barest trace of impatience in her voice.

Shaking his head, he nudged her lightly on the shoulder. “Go first,” he said.

She gave him another look, full of uncertainty, before she nodded. Holding the _wakizashi_ in front of her, she stared at the gleaming metal again. 

Lilynette swallowed. She raised the sword and said, clearly, “Kick about, Los Lobos.”

Blue light and smoke exploded from her form. Starrk’s eyes widened at the sudden _power_ that rushed from her, and his entire body twitched as he tried his best to not rush towards her. Until this very moment, Starrk wasn’t even sure if it would work. Lilynette and he had always been one, and _she_ was his zanpaktou. For her to have a release of her own…

He wasn’t sure what it meant. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what it meant.

Slowly, the light cleared. Lilynette stood in front of him… though, at the moment, she didn’t look much like Lilynette at all.

She was taller. Instead of reaching his chest, she now reached his shoulders. Her helmet was gone, replaced by a ring of teeth around her neck almost identical to his own, except the teeth reached went all around. Her hair started as light green at the roots before darkening until the colour of leaves at the roots. Instead of the yukata she was wearing, she wore a black tunic and pants along with knee-length boots with small heels. Her arms were covered by gloves that went from her elbow to the middle of her hands, leaving her fingers free.

Starrk stared at her. Lilynette stared at him.

“… You’re shorter,” she said eventually. She blinked at him. Starrk’s lips parted, surprised, because instead of green, her eyes – _two_ – were now _red_.

“You’re taller,” he corrected absentmindedly, still staring at her. She even _felt_ different – Lilynette’s reiatsu had never been much – on level with an average Lieutenant at most – but now power was wrapped around her. Not as much as Starrk’s own, but definitely… definitely on level with some of the less powerful Captains.

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Kyouraku spoke up next to him. Starrk’s eyes widened – he had almost forgotten about Kyouraku’s presence. The Captain took a step forward – Starrk’s hand twitched by his side – but he only cocked his head instead of touching Lilynette.

“You look like your combined form now, Lilynette-chan.”

“She does?”

“I do?”

Their voices chorused together. Kyouraku looked surprised for a moment.

“You didn’t know what your combined form looks like?”

Starrk shook his head. Lilynette snorted. 

“Of course we don’t!” she said, kicking lightly at Kyouraku’s shin. The gesture was so purely _Lilynette_ that Starrk felt himself breathing easier immediately, ignoring the Captain’s muttered ‘ow’.

“We only went back to that form during that one battle, and there weren’t any mirrors around then!”

“This is…” Ukitake murmured. “This is unexpected, Lilynette-chan.” His hand was drifting towards the sword on his hip.

“This is _weird_ ,” Lilynette corrected. She dragged a hand through her own hair. “I have two eyes now. It’s weird.”

Starrk dragged a hand through his hair, barely listening. There was something nagging at the back of his mind. If Kyouraku was right and Lilynette looked like their original form now, then…

“ _You_ were the original Hollow,” he breathed.

All three pairs of eyes turned to stare at him.

“Eh?” Kyouraku asked eloquently. Starrk ignored him, his entire attention focused on his other half.

Lilynette didn’t answer – she only looked at him with too-old eyes. She _knew_ , he realised. She had always known that she was the original.

He was the only one who didn’t know.

“You were the one who made me,” the words tumbled out of him. “You hated the power, you hated the loneliness… and you pushed it all out and made _me_.”

Lilynette shook her head immediately. “I didn’t!” she cried, rushing towards him. Starrk felt the air rush out of his lungs as her body slammed into him, her arms wrapping around his waist. Despite her newly-gained height, she was hugging him as she always had.

“I didn’t, I swear! You were already there! You had always been there!”

She was starting to sob, and Starrk’s arms tightened around her immediately. His head spun with the new knowledge. She remembered. He barely remembered anything before they broke their mask because… because he was only part of her soul collection until _she_ pushed him out and gave him form.

He had always thought it was odd that he had so much power and she had so little. But if she was the original and hated her power so much that she didn’t want it all, then it made sense that he was the one with all the strength; all the strength that she didn’t want to have.

In the past, he had wondered why Lilynette didn’t simply leave him. She could have found friends – a pack, even. It wasn’t Lilynette who was killing everything around them; it was _him_ , and yet she had never left.

Her tears were soaking into his clothes. Starrk dropped to his knees, looking up at her – and wasn’t _that_ odd – before he held her tightly.

“I was so alone, Starrk,” she was still sobbing. “I was so alone and I didn’t want to be alone anymore! Please don’t leave me!”

“Lilynette,” Starrk murmured. He buried his hand into her hair, pulling her close. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched as the Captains averted their eyes, giving the two of them their privacy. “I’m not going to leave you.”

She sniffed, pulling back to stare hard at him. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said, stroking a hand through her hair. “I can’t even imagine living without you, so you’re stuck with me.”

Her lips trembled. “I wasn’t lying, you know,” she said. “You were always there. I didn’t make you up.”

Starrk couldn’t help it: he buried his face in her hair, smiling against her skin. “I know,” he murmured. He really did. “You get annoyed with me often enough that I know you couldn’t have made me up.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Shaking his head, he rubbed her back soothingly. “It’s okay.”

That was true too. What could have knowing about this done? It wouldn’t have changed a single thing. Whether she was part of him or he a part of her… they were still part of a single being, and the bond between them could never be broken. He was sure about that now. Even though part of him still ached to feel her presence in his mind, this was just fine too.

She pulled away from him fully, looking at him. Whatever she saw there seemed to placate her, because she nodded and wiped away the tears on her face with the back of her hand.

“It’s your turn,” she nudged him on the shoulder.

Starrk sighed under his breath. “It’s not going to be exciting as yours,” he said wryly.

Lilynette crossed her arms. “Stop being lazy and just do it already,” she said, kicking him lightly on the back of his knee.

Nothing had changed between them because of this. The relief he felt nearly knocked him off of his feet, and it gave him enough strength to fully step away from her.

Drawing his own sword, he looked at it for a long moment before holding it in front of him.

“Kick about, Los Lobos.”

The light and smoke that burst around him made him wince just as much as the power rush that rocked through his entire body. The itching that he had ignored came back with full force before fading abruptly. Half of his sight suddenly disappeared.

Starrk blinked when the smoke dissipated and the world returned. His hand reached up. The eyepatch was still there, and he could still feel the edges of the flame marking. His hands and clothes looked the same. The only thing that had changed was…

The power around him had… lessened. He couldn’t tell by how much, but it was definitely _less._

He didn’t mind; definitely not. 

Ukitake stepped closer to him, peering. Starrk blinked.

“Well,” the Shinigami said. “As impressive as it is the last time, Starrk-san.”

“Though, I can’t help but notice…” Kyouraku joined in, looking between Starrk and Lilynette. “Neither of you carry weapons of any sort.”

He stared at his hands – there were nothing in them. Actually, now that he thought about it… Lilynette wasn’t holding anything either. The Captain was right.

Meeting Lilynette’s eyes, he frowned slightly. “Can you call on the wolves?”

“I don’t know,” she said, then closed her eyes, brows creasing with concentration. After a moment, a whole _pack_ of wolves appeared around her.

Kyouraku scrambled back immediately, dragging Ukitake with him. The sound of their footsteps made Lilynette open her eyes.

“Woah!” she blinked, looking around her. “That is so _cool_! Wait, wait, let me try…”

One of the wolves disappeared, and her hands shimmered. Blue light coalesced into a gun – smaller than the ones from their original resurreccion forms, resembling more of a revolver than a pistol – in her left hand, and a sickle-like blade in her right.

“Oh, this is _really_ cool!” she grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The wolves, Starrk noticed, stayed where they were.

“Starrk, Starrk, you try!”

Starrk didn’t need to concentrate as hard, but he still blinked when he saw his own pack appear around him. They were virtually indistinguishable from Lilynette’s – ice-blue with red eyes – and they stood around him. The training grounds were now filled with their wolves. 

He nudged at his power a little more, calling for weapons to fill his hands… and stared at the familiar gun and sword that appeared.

The sword wasn’t made of pure reishi like the one he used to wield. It was solid, gleaming metal in his hand. Starrk tightened his grip on the hilt, shivering slightly as he looked at the sharp blade. Suddenly, the sword completely disappeared.

“… Hah,” he said.

“You two are going to be something to be reckoned with for any opponent,” Ukitake stated cheerfully. Starrk looked at him, and immediately tore his eyes away at the calculating look in those brown eyes, hidden beneath the warmth.

“I’m really glad that I won’t have to fight _both_ of you now,” Kyouraku picked up the thread.

Starrk looked between them two of them before he sighed. “You nearly killed me with just your shikai, taichou-san,” he stated. “There’s no way I can win if you use your bankai. Much less the _both_ of you.”

“You might be giving yourself too little credit, Starrk-san,” Ukitake pointed out.

He shrugged in reply. “Talking about this is useless,” he said. “I don’t want to fight. I never did.”

The tension within the Captains – surely imperceptible to anyone else – suddenly relaxed. Starrk rubbed the back of his neck, exchanging a bone-tired glance with Lilynette. The both of them should know better than to think that they weren’t being treated as threats, but somehow, they couldn’t help themselves.

Their desperation for acceptance was probably pathetic.

Lilynette heaved an exaggerated sigh. They looked at each other again before simultaneously reverting to their sealed forms. Starrk watched, a little amused, as Lilynette stumbled around a little, as if unused to being shorter and having one eyeagain.

Reaching down, he picked up the wrist restraints. He knew his every movement was being watched, so he immediately held them out towards the two Captains.

“You two haven’t trained using those forms yet,” Ukitake commented, but Starrk noticed that he took the cuff without protest.

“This is enough for today,” Starrk shrugged. “We’re tired.”

“He’s just being lazy again,” Lilynette snorted, but she didn’t deny his words. Instead, she came towards him, tucking herself by his side. His hand brushed over the hair beneath her mask fragment.

“Besides, there isn’t a point,” he continued evenly. “Since we won’t be fighting anyone here, right?”

Kyouraku’s hat was pulled down over his eyes again; he was starting to _really_ hate it when the other man did that.

“Right!” Ukitake said, smiling widely. “You two will have plenty of time to practice.”

Starrk cocked his head, looking at the man for a long moment. Ukitake’s words and the gentle sincerity beneath them were both genuine, but it didn’t mean that the man wasn’t somewhat manipulative. He knew that if he agreed, he was basically signing him and Lilynette up for a more permanent stay here.

He glanced down at her, and she shrugged. Well, what else did they have, really? There wasn’t anywhere else for them to go. 

And he was sure the Captains knew that too.

“Yeah,” he said, looking away. “We will.”

Lilynette stepped back, giving the Shinigami room. They placed the restraints back on his wrists, sealing the stone with their power. 

Then Starrk turned away, Lilynette in perfect tandem by his side as the two of them started to head towards the guest quarters given for their use. Kyouraku explained yesterday that the Division guest quarters were usually meant for visitors from the Kido corps or visiting family of the Division’s Shinigami. They were neither, but there was nowhere else in the barracks to house them, so there they stayed.

“Wait,” Kyouraku said suddenly. Starrk turned around, looking at the man through half-lidded eyes.

“Ukitake,” the man turned to his friend. “I told Lilynette-chan here that you would be willing to teach them how to read. Would you?”

The white-haired Shinigami blinked. One black eyebrow rose at Kyouraku before he turned towards the two of them with a smile.

“I would love to.”

Lilynette shook her head. “I said that we would think about it,” she said, sighing heavily. “We haven’t thought about it yet.”

Starrk blinked at her. When did this conversation occur? He thought back, and realised that it must be during the time before Kyouraku and Lilynette joined him in the training grounds. And he resolved, right at the moment, to talk to Lilynette about what that particular conversation had been about; it surely was about more than just reading.

There were other things they would have to talk about too, he knew. 

“Alright, alright,” Kyouraku held up both hands, smiling at them. “I’m just making sure. It won’t do if you agreed and then Ukitake here didn’t.”

“We haven’t agreed yet,” Lilynette snapped. “And if you keep bugging us about it, we won’t ever.”

She tugged on Starrk’s hand. “Let’s go back,” she said, clearly irritated.

“Yes, yes,” he sighed. Turning, he nodded at the two Captains. “See you later, taichou-san.”

As Lilynette practically dragged him back into the shade, Starrk wondered if the two Captains heard the slight insecurity in his words.

“See you soon!” Ukitake waved. Beside him, Kyouraku waggled his fingers.

… It seemed like they did.

Starrk didn’t know what to think about _that_ either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to say except that I feel like I should apologise for the slow-as-molasses pace of both the plot and Shunsui and Starrk’s relationship. Honestly, I didn’t plan for things to go this slow, or for the story to be this long. This is supposed to be a fling-fic – as in, I have a fling with this fic before I go back to what I was supposed to be writing – but now it seems that I’m in a committed relationship without me knowing.
> 
> In other words, this is going to be an epic, and the plot details are building up to something. I wrote something like 30k words of this fic in less than a week. (I've finished Chapter 5; it just needs editing.) And we're nowhere near the end. I have _plans_ to bring this all the way to the Wandenreich arc. So… I am guessing that this would be novel-length, at least. This is what happens when I haven't written any fic for a _really_ long time. Still, updates will be slower now that I no longer have time to write, and edit, every day.
> 
> ... I don't know what regular updates mean. I'll try to be less slow than the plot, that's all.


	5. The Cut Sleeve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shunsui figures out something, and goes to Ukitake for help. Starrk is revisited by a memory.

“Are you angry?”

Starrk opened his eyes. He was dozing off a little in the spot where the sunlight shone through the window during this time of the day. Lilynette had been staring out of the window towards the skies ever since they came back to the room, watching the sun’s movements, and he was waiting.

He sat up immediately, folding his arms above his knees. Taking in the insecurity written all over her face, Starrk sighed. 

“A little,” he shrugged. 

“Why?” Lilynette shouted, immediately coming to his side.

“I’m not mad because you didn’t tell me,” Starrk explained, dragging a hand through his hair. “But I am a little angry that you didn’t tell me _because_ you think I would leave you if I knew.” He tilted his head up to look at her.

Lilynette looked at him for a long moment before she dropped down to sit next to him. Starrk lifted his arm, letting her lean against his chest. The weight of her mask fragment against his ribs was a little uncomfortable, but he had long grown used to it.

“I was scared, Starrk,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know what you would _do_ if you knew.” She tugged at her ends of his hair. “And… I knew you wouldn’t leave because you were angry. Maybe for a little while, but we always made up after our fights. But I knew that you would be stupid enough to leave me because you think that would be better for me. You would go off and be alone and probably get killed because I think I could find a pack or something.”

Starrk blinked, hearing his own thoughts echoed in her words.

“You promised that we will always be together,” Lilynette muttered into his chest. “We _both_ promised. I’ll _never_ want you to leave.”

“We’ll go everywhere,” Starrk repeated the promise they both made. He pressed a kiss on top of her mask fragment, knowing she would feel it. “Together.”

“Always?” Lilynette’s voice was small.

Starrk nodded. “Always.”

She pulled away from him for a moment, checking his eyes for lies. Then, slowly, she nodded.

They stayed there like that for a long while, huddling together like they used to in the empty desert. In the past, they did it to stave off the chill emanating from the mountains of bones that surrounded them, the chill that came from the sorrow that knifed through their nerves whenever they saw someone approach and immediately died.

“Lilynette?”

“Mm?”

“What did you say to taichou-san?”

Lilynette tipped her head up, blinking at him before she shrugged. She didn’t need to ask him which Captain he meant.

“I told him to not bother you about the stuff with Aizen anymore,” she sighed. “At least, that’s what I _thought_ I said. The stupid bastard will probably warp it again.”

Starrk blinked. “I thought you were talking about reading,” he said tentatively.

“I was talking to him about the Aizen stuff until he changed the topic to reading,” she huffed. “He seems really… I don’t know. _Fixated_ on the subject.”

Which probably didn’t mean anything good for either of them.

If there was one thing that Starrk learned from his battle with Kyouraku, it was that the man’s every word and movement was calculated for a certain reason, a certain purpose. Everything was meant to fulfil a goal… or more than one goal.

It made Kyouraku a difficult man to read, and an even more difficult man to trust. Beneath the cheerful, bumbling behaviour was a man more like Aizen Sousuke than most realised; a man who was surely as ruthless as Starrk’s previous master. And his friend, the white-haired Captain… he was just the same. Despite the sincerity of his kindness, Starrk _knew_ that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill if he thought it was the right thing to do.

The Shinigami were all manipulative creatures. Aizen, Ichimaru, Kyouraku, Ukitake… they were all the same. 

Still, what ulterior motive might the two Captains have in teaching them how to read? Starrk couldn’t figure it out. 

“Starrk?” Lilynette nudged him. “You didn’t fall asleep, did you?”

He shook his head. “Maybe we can give it a try,” he said quietly. “Maybe we can just go for a few lessons at first. At the very least, we can see what they are planning.” He swallowed.

“And if we can read then… then we don’t need to rely on what other people tell us. We can figure it out by ourselves.”

They didn’t have to trust that what was told to them was the truth. Perhaps that was Kyouraku and Ukitake’s purpose; perhaps they were being _kind_ , in their own way, by giving Starrk and Lilynette a choice whether to trust.

The problem with believing that such kindness could actually exist. The even bigger problem was that Starrk knew that if he believed, he would trust the two of them more automatically. 

But then, sometimes having a choice wasn’t having a choice at all. _A bastard’s willing whore,_ Grimmjow had called him, and Starrk knew it was true. He chose to go with Aizen that first time; and he had continued to go to him even when he suspected the man was treating him like a toy. Sometimes being given a choice meant that he was falling even deeper into the abyss.

His mind was tying itself into knots.

In that one moment, Starrk longed desperately for the simplicity of the desert. His chest hurt. He wished he could trust as blindly as he once had, but he knew better now. 

“We’ll tell them that we can stop the lessons whenever we want.” Lilynette said firmly. She hesitated, and said, far more uncertainly, “They will agree to that, right?”

They both knew better now.

Starrk closed his eyes. He wanted to sleep. He always stopped _thinking_ when he slept.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I really don’t know, Lilynette.”

She tugged at the ends of his hair again. Her smile was smaller than usual. “Well, at least we can _try_ ,” she said. “Stop being such a wuss, Starrk.”

Slowly, he cracked a smile at her. “I suppose so.”

Lilynette nodded. She pushed at his shoulder, and Starrk fell over easily onto the floor. “I’ll tell one of them in the morning,” she said. “Now stay there so I can sleep on you. I’m tired.”

“You have your own futon,” Starrk pointed out, but he didn’t protest when she flopped on top of him.

“You’re more comfortable,” she said, tucking her face into his shoulder. Her small hand clenched over the collar of his clothes, refusing to let go.

Starrk wrapped his arm around her back. “Okay.”

It had been a while since the two of them had slept like this, almost every inch of their bodies touching where it was possible to touch. But after the day they had… after all that had happened…

He needed the reassurance too.

***

The next morning, Shunsui woke up to Nanao-chan’s irritation about ‘the missing Arrancar’. Lilynette was accounted for – Ukitake had sent over a hell butterfly to say that she was with him, and Shunsui hoped that this meant that she, at least, would be taking up on the offer of reading and writing lessons – so that left Starrk.

Thinking for a moment, Shunsui chuckled to himself. He placated Nanao-chan, telling her that he would find his charge, before going straight to the rooftop.

He found Starrk sitting on the edge of the roof, legs drawn up against his chest as he stared out towards the mid-morning sky. Shunsui opened his mouth for a greeting, but decided to close it and sit down next to Starrk instead.

Turning his eyes up, he followed Starrk’s gaze to the skies. His mind sped through several possible conversation openers: he wanted to know what it was that Lilynette and he talked about last night – he heard the soft murmurs of their voices when he was making his usual rounds through the Division; he wanted to ask about Aizen… but he discarded both notions immediately. Asking about those immediately would just shatter whatever trust that had built up between them. 

At least, Shunsui hoped that there was _some_ trust built up from Starrk’s side.

He finally decided on something entirely neutral.

“No matter how long I have lived here, no matter how many times I have looked at the skies… the sight of the clouds have never bored me,” he said. “They are always different.”

Starrk’s gaze turned towards him for a moment before focusing once more at the skies. “Mm,” he said.

“Are there clouds in Hueco Mundo?”

“Sometimes,” the other man said, shrugging. “Not very often, and they were always thin.”

Silence fell over them again. Shunsui didn’t fidget; didn’t try to break it. He had plenty of patience after a thousand years.

“There would be time after the war. After the war, when I rule over the Heavens, I will teach you how to read.” Starrk said finally. His eyes fluttered shut, and his shoulders sagged. “But for now, you are my soldier, and soldiers have little need for books in time of war.”

Shunsui didn’t need to ask to know whose words those belonged to. He bit his lip lightly, watching Starrk out of the corner of his eyes.

“Now the war is done,” Starrk continued in the same dull, empty voice. “And he is still alive. But I don’t think he’ll keep that promise. He hasn’t kept any of the others.”

Making a soft, thoughtful noise under his voice, Shunsui nodded. He watched Starrk for another moment before he nudged his shoulders. 

“Look over that,” he said, pointing in the far-off distance. “Do you see those big white gates?”

“Yeah.”

“Outside those gates are the Rukongai districts,” Shunsui told him. “That is where most of the plus souls end up after they were given _konso_ by the Shinigami.”

He paused for a moment, watching Starrk’s reaction. The other man was looking at the white gates, a faraway look in his gaze. Shunsui wondered what he was thinking about; the man was so difficult to read.

“Most of the Shinigami here are from Rukongai,” he continued. “There are some of us who were born in Seireitei itself, of course, but most come from outside the gates. And when they enrol in the Academy… almost none of them knew how to read.”

Pulling his hat down to shadow his eyes, he continued, “The Gotei 13 is a military organisation. All of us here are soldiers, and yet every single person within these gates knows how to read and write. No matter their future rank, no matter if they knew the name of their zanpaktou… they all could read and write.”

“What is it that you’re trying to say, taichou-san?” Starrk asked, sounding tired.

“Aizen lied to you about many things,” Shunsui said bluntly, lifting his head to meet grey-blue eyes. “It might be wiser for you to assume that every word he said was a lie.”

Starrk raised an eyebrow. “And who should I trust instead?” he asked dryly. “You?”

“Goodness no,” Shunsui said, grinning helplessly at the very idea. “I’m very untrustworthy, Starrk-san.” Not as much as Aizen, but that wasn’t saying much.

He ignored the look of surprise on Starrk’s face, shelving it to be thought about later on.

“You should trust what’s here,” he brushed one hand over Starrk’s temple, “and what’s here.” His other hand hovered over the centre of Starrk’s chest.

“Taichou-san,” Starrk cocked his head to the side. He wasn’t leaning away from the almost-touch. “I’m a Hollow. There is emptiness where my heart should be."

Shunsui shook his head, still smiling. “I don’t believe that,” he denied, leaning forward. “I _can’t_ believe that after these past few days.

“You have as many emotions as any Shinigami, as any living, human soul. And what is a heart except a place to store your emotions?”

Waving a hand extravagantly, he took a gamble. “Perhaps having a hole here doesn’t mean that you have no emotions, but instead that your emotions are freer and fiercer than ours.”

Starrk blinked slowly. Surprise practically screamed out from his body language, even though he was obviously trying to control himself. “That’s…” he started. He shook his head. “That’s quite something to say, taichou-san.”

Shunsui leaned forward, knowing that he was grinning like a fool. “Did I manage to surprise you?”

Slowly, he watched as a small smile tugged at the corners of Starrk’s mouth. He found himself breathless as the sides of those grey-blue eyes crinkled. This was the first time he had ever seen him smile: the previous times when he had suspected Starrk to be smiling, the other man’s face was always hidden somehow.

And what a sight it was. If Starrk was handsome when he was solemn, he was beautiful when he smiled. His eyes turned as blue as the skies above them.

He was so engrossed in his staring that he almost missed Starrk’s next words.

“Taichou-san,” Starrk said, sounding amused. “You have been surprising me ever since we first met.”

Shunsui really shouldn’t be thinking about kissing the man whom he had nearly killed; shouldn’t be thinking about kissing a man whose trust he was trying to earn, and who clearly was scarred all that Aizen had done to him; shouldn’t be thinking about making an overture at a man who would mostly likely have an incredibly skewed understanding of what the gesture meant.

He swallowed. _Patience_ , he told himself. His hand twitched by his side, but he clenched it so he didn’t reach out.

_Focus_.

“Is that a good thing?” he asked, congratulating himself for being able to sound casual.

Starrk shrugged, turning away and lying on his back, turning his face up to stare at the clouds.

“It is right now.”

The smile was still on his face. Shunsui lay down next to him, tipping his hat backwards to look up at the skies.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

He resolved to talk to Ukitake about this immediately. If there was anyone who could help Shunsui rein in his self-control, it was his best friend.

But for now, he would stay here watching the clouds with his charge until the man dozed off. He would just stay here and enjoy his silent company.

… _Dammit._ How long had it been since he found himself perfectly willing to just be beside someone, without the need for words, and not be bored within the first five seconds?  
 _  
_He really was in far deeper trouble than he first thought.  
 _  
_***

“Help.” 

Jyuushirou looked up from the pile of paperwork in front of him. He blinked: Kyouraku was leaning against the doorframe, half-boneless, eyes peeking out at him through the shadows of his hat. He blinked again, and Kyouraku made a long, pitiable whine.

“Help me, Ukitake…” he flopped over on the floor, pink kimono fluttering. Then he rolled over and pouted.

The Captain of the Thirteenth Division put down his brush. When he stood from the table, he was just Ukitake, the man who knew best how to handle Kyouraku Shunsui in one of his moods.

“Take a seat,” he told his best friend, shaking his head. “I’ll make tea.”

He knew Kyouraku very well: when the man was looking for a distraction or running away from work (most often the two coincided), he was always deadly serious when he came to Jyuushirou’s office. When he was overly dramatic, however, he had a problem that he needed his old friend to help solve.

Kyouraku Shunsui was a man of immense and complex contradictions, and Jyuushirou knew for a fact that he created new ones on a whim. There had been no one who could figure him out entirely except for Jyuushirou himself.

Well, there _was_ one. And Jyuushirou had an idea that this was exactly who Kyouraku had come to talk to him about.

He carried a small tray to the sitting room that was adjacent to his office. The entire place was made up in a traditional Japanese style – traditional by Jyuushirou’s standards, which meant that the furnishings and designs were at least eight hundred years old. He sat the tray down on a table that someone long dead had given him from the Living World during the era of the _Tale of Heike_ some eight to nine hundred years ago.

Kyouraku was sprawled on his stomach beside the table, face buried in his arms and hat by his side. Jyuushirou looked at him, amused.

“I’ve lost a bet with myself, you know,” he told the other man as he poured the tea. “I thought it would take you another month before you came to me about Starrk-san.”

His best friend’s entire body jerked. Kyouraku lifted his head, staring at him for a moment before he laughed, flopping over to his back.

“Ah, Ukitake, you should know me better than that,” he said, resting one arm over his eyes. “Am I not a man of extreme excesses and no self-control?”

Jyuushirou snorted under his breath. He pushed one cup over to the other end of the table. “You must’ve mistaken me for someone who hadn’t known you for a thousand years,” he said pointedly. 

Kyouraku gave a deep, exaggerated sigh. “It’s no fun when you know me so well,” he groused.

Lifting his cup to take a sip, Jyuushirou refused to deign that comment with a reply. 

His head falling back to his arms, Kyouraku didn’t speak for a whole ten minutes. Jyuushirou waited him out; in moments like this, his own well of patience was bottomless. Eventually, the other Captain sat up, rubbing a hand through his hair. He picked up his cup of tea and made a face at it.

“It’s cold now, Ukitake,” he whined, holding it out.

“Drink some of it and I’ll give you hot tea,” Jyuushirou replied.

Kyouraku considered the cup for a moment before he downed the whole of it like it was alcohol. Jyuushirou’s lips twitched as he watched; so the whole situation with Starrk was bothering him a great deal, then.

“You should have seen him, Ukitake. The way he smiled…” Kyouraku shook his head. “I wanted to kiss him.” 

He sounded so distraught with that confession that Jyuushirou wanted to laugh.

“Why didn’t you?”

Kyouraku gave him a flat stare. “Well, for one thing, he is an Arrancar,” he said. “Sponsoring him is socially permissible, but taking him as my lover? The whole of Seireitei will go into an uproar.”

Jyuushirou didn’t even bother to stifle his laugh. Kyouraku gave him an annoyed look, but he only waved it away.

“I never thought that I would see the day when Kyouraku Shunsui allowed the opinions of the majority to get in his way,” he said, lips still twitching. “We both have lived far too long to not realise that the only constant thing about the world is its inconstancy. And it’s long past time that our opinions about Hollows are revolutionised, isn’t it?”

Kyouraku raised an eyebrow. “And what makes you think that I _want_ to be a catalyst for a revolution?”

Taking a sip of his tea, Jyuushirou shrugged. “To become an exception that slowly changes the minds of those you meet, then.”

“That’s just a prettier rephrasing of a revolution,” his friend snorted, shaking his head.

“Kyouraku,” Jyuushirou said, cocking his head to the side. “What is it that you are really worried about?”

There was a long moment of silence as Kyouraku stared deep into his teacup as if it could give him all the answers that he sought.

“I’m not very good at letting go, Ukitake,” he sighed eventually.

So it was just as Jyuushirou had expected. It was the same problem over and over throughout Kyouraku’s life, and he honestly wondered if his friend would ever get over it.

“You are always so much better at doing that than I am,” his friend continued. “I still don’t understand how you managed to let go of Kaien. And even allowed him to get married!”

“He no longer needed me,” Jyuushirou murmured behind his teacup.

“Whoever I have by my side, I will always want to keep them by my side,” Kyouraku confessed mournfully to the tea leaves. “I know that I’m overprotective of Nanao-chan. And I nearly stifled Lisa-chan’s growth, you know. I even sabotaged her bankai training just a little bit, because I didn’t want her to leave me. She had the potential to become a Captain, but if she was a Captain, then she wouldn’t be with me anymore…”

“Besides, Kaien and Miyako make for a lovely couple,” Jyuushirou continued as if he hadn’t heard a word. 

“Ah, Lisa-chan probably realised. It has been so long… She must be so angry at me!” Kyouraku flopped onto the floor, two seconds from curling up into a fetal position. Jyuushirou’s eyebrow twitched. “She would be even crueller than me than she usually is! We were supposed to have a lovely reunion, but she only stepped on my head! Ah, she really must be—”

Under the table, Jyuushirou _slammed_ his foot against Kyouraku’s shin.

“ _Shunsui_.”

His friend sat up immediately, eyes widening as he gaped. 

They were contradictory creatures, the two of them: they never used each other’s given names unless they were angry, or approaching near enough to it. 

“I’m not letting you distract me from the main topic here,” Jyuushirou smiled beatifically. 

“We had a topic?” Kyouraku asked. He looked almost entirely innocent.

“Starrk-san,” Jyuushirou said, batting away the pitiful attempt at a distraction. “You were telling me that you thought him beautiful. So why haven’t you taken him, if only to slate your lusts just once?”

Kyouraku gave him a wry look. “Haven’t I already told you?”

“You were distracting me in hopes that you didn’t have to tell me,” Jyuushirou corrected.

The other man fell silent for a long moment before he sighed. “We were on the rooftop,” he said softly, tipping his head up to stare at the ceiling. “We were there for almost an hour, just looking at the clouds, without saying a word.”

Jyuushirou raised an eyebrow.

“He dozed off eventually, and I…” Kyouraku rubbed a hand over his face. “I just sat there, watching as he slept, forcing myself to not kiss him.”

Jyuushirou’s other eyebrow shot up. _That_ was unexpected.

“Don’t give me that look,” Kyouraku eyeballed him. “I’m not going to kiss him.”

“That is…” Jyuushirou put down his cup. “That is _precisely_ my worry, Shunsui. You are being uncommonly free with your affections.”

One of the biggest differences between Kyouraku and himself was this: the long years and the many losses resulted in heavy calluses over Kyouraku’s heart. Though his friend still cared, he always kept himself apart, constructing a million different ways to distance himself from others. Kyouraku hoarded the surprise in people’s eyes like a child with a safety blanket, using it to reassure himself that they didn’t know him well enough; that there were parts of him that was still secret and hadn’t been given away.

Jyuushirou couldn’t understand why he did so. Then again, he supposed that he was far too different to ever grasp that concept: he willingly gave over all of himself over and over, taking others into his heart, and accepting losses with a grace that was anathema to the other man. He was a master of moving on from grief. 

Kyouraku was barely an apprentice at the skill; he held onto every single person he had ever loved with deep claws usually ended up scarring him deeply. Even now, after a hundred years, the loss of Yadomaru-kun still haunted him.

“I’m not even sure about that anymore,” Kyouraku sighed heavily. “Did you know that I thought he was beautiful even during our very first meeting? In the middle of a really important battle?”

Ah, another distraction. This time, Jyuushirou allowed it, leaning forward. “You don’t have to tell me,” Jyuushirou’s mouth twitched upwards into a smile. “I saw the way you were looking at him.”

Kyouraku’s head went _thunk_ on the ancient table. “Ukitake, I…” he muttered at the wood. “I don’t think I’m what he needs.”

Sweeping his tea cup off the table, Jyuushirou drained it. Now he was the one wishing it was alcohol, because he needed the fortitude to be able to pry his friend out from the very, very deep hole he had clearly dug himself into. When had Kyouraku cared about the needs of others above his own selfish wants?

It had been a very long time. 

Slowly, Kyouraku lifted his eyes. “He carries wounds up here,” he said, tapping the side of his head. “Aizen did something to him. I don’t know what, and I have been forbidden by Lilynette-chan to pry, but the wounds are still festering. I still want to storm into Aizen’s cell and to strangle him with my bare hands whenever I think about that.”

Jyuushirou forced himself to not interrupt.

“ _And_ ,” Kyouraku took a breath. “Even if I approach him with this, I don’t think he trusts me enough for friendship, much less…” he shook his head. “And he would be right not to trust me.”

He groaned. “I’m too old for this.”

Standing up, Jyuushirou walked over to the other side of the table. He rubbed soothingly at Kyouraku’s shoulders. “In the words of our current youths,” he said, “you are _so screwed_.”

Kyouraku barked a sudden laugh, leaning towards his touch. “You _don’t_ say,” he drawled.

Jyuushirou chuckled, taking up the teacup to refill their cups. “Honestly, you have surprised me,” he said. “I thought you are here to help solve a problem with lust, not with… well, to put it bluntly. Not with love.”

His friend blinked at him. Then he sighed. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to me,” Jyuushirou comforted, flicking the straw hat away to pat his hair. “You’re quite safe with everyone else.”

Kyouraku dropped his face into his hand. “Why couldn’t I have fallen for _you_ , Ukitake?” he whined.

“Well,” Jyuushirou said, pretending to take the question seriously. “We did try once, and it ended up in disaster.” A very humorous disaster, even during the moment itself, but one nonetheless. “And there is the fact that we don’t bore each other as friends, but we _would_ bore each other to tears if we are lovers.”

They simply knew each other far too well. Their friendship stretched back for literally a millenia, and Jyuushirou _knew_ that it was the distance and time spent apart that kept their bond so strong. Every time he met Kyouraku again, the man would show him something new – whether about himself, the world around him, or even someone by his side. Meeting with Kyouraku again was never boring. _  
_  
This time was no different.

He leaned in and kissed Kyouraku on the cheek. “Just don’t forget about me when you are caught up in the throes of your new love,” he teased.

Kyouraku snorted. He turned around, grabbing Jyuushirou’s hand with his own and pressing a gallant kiss at the back of it. “No one can ever take your place in my heart, Ukitake,” he declared, grinning widely. “Don’t worry about that.”

Jyuushirou laughed. He sat back before picking up his cup of tea again. “Are you calmer now?”

“Ah,” his friend nodded.

“If that’s the case, I think I have a solution for your problem,” he said.

Kyouraku cocked his head to the side, curious and perfectly willing to listen.

“Most of the tangles you’re now caught in are self-made,” Jyuushirou told him. “You’ve always had that bad habit.”

He shook his head. “You’re panicking,” he said. A bald statement, perhaps, but delivered with gentleness. “Whenever you’re confronted with a completely new element, you start thinking too many steps ahead. You start _strategizing_ , Kyouraku, and every strategy you make falls into pieces at their very conception because you have no idea of how Starrk-san will react”

Putting a hand on Kyouraku’s shoulder, he smiled. “Take one step at a time.”

“Easy for you to say,” Kyouraku grumbled. “How am I supposed to do that?”

Jyuushirou laughed. “You already know the answer, but if you insist…” He leaned in, catching the other man’s gaze with his own. “ _Trust him_ ,” he said. “Trust him, and trust Lilynette-chan. You _must_ believe that the two of them are not a threat. Stop thinking of possible contingency plans to take them both down if there is a need to – don’t deny it, I know you – and you have to stop. Because Starrk-san is far too observant to not notice, and he will always keep his distance from you if you don’t trust him.”

Sometimes Jyuushirou looked at those two and was reminded of the young recruits in the Academy, the ones who recently arrived at the outer reaches of Rukongai. The look in their eyes were exactly the same as those who could not find themselves to trust because their trust had been betrayed before, and those treacheries had left heavy scars in their hearts.

He put his cup down, sighing under his breath. “I admit that part of their distrust is my own fault as well. The power Lilynette-chan wields in her release was a surprise. But I’m working on it, and so should you.”

Kyouraku sighed deeply. “Ask me to move a mountain with a spoon, why don’t you,” he muttered.

Shrugging, Jyuushirou thrust the second cup of tea into his fellow Captain’s hands. He knew that he was asking a lot of Kyouraku for a first step; Starrk and Lilynette weren’t the only ones with trust issues. Aizen had left far deeper wounds than those that could be healed with kido. Still…

“You won’t get anywhere if you don’t,” he pointed out.

And Kyouraku knew it too, because he sighed again. “I suppose so,” he said, hands clenched tight around his teacup. “What’s step two, Ukitake? Should I bring the skies down with a fork?”

“Something like it,” Jyuushirou admitted easily. “You’ll have to get him to trust you. I’ll leave it up to you how to do that. Your methods have always been vastly different from mine.”

He sipped at his own tea, waiting. There was nothing he hadn’t said that Kyouraku hadn’t thought of himself, but the other man needed someone who was there to vocalise those thoughts, to not let them be drowned underneath everything else. That was what they had always done for each other.

Jyuushirou remembered the days after Kaien’s death, when Kyouraku had given him a harsh lecture that he was sure no one else knew the man was capable of. But it was what he had needed; Jyuushirou had allowed that particular wound to fester for far too long before going to his friend, and Kyouraku had laced it open to drain the infection before helping him heal.

That wasn’t much different from what he was doing now. Though, he had to say that his bedside manner was far better than Kyouraku’s.

His friend had been completely silent through his musings, and he was very curious about what was going through that brilliant mind.

Slowly, Kyouraku started to chuckle. “What would I do without you, Jyuu-chan?”

Jyuuhirou snorted at the literally thousand-year-old nickname from their Academy days. He punched Kyouraku lightly on the shoulder.

“You would likely fail miserably at everything you try your hand at,” he said dryly. “And I might just leave you to do that if you call me by that nickname again.”

It was an empty threat, and both of them knew it.

“So what will you do now?” 

Kyouraku stretched his hands upwards before he leapt to his feet. “Spring cleaning, I think,” he said.

It might seem a non-sequitor to anyone else, but Jyuushirou only laughed. “Your head is long due for one.”

His friend only flapped a hand at him as he headed towards the door. Jyuushirou watched him, hiding a smile behind his teacup. The tension that was in Kyouraku’s body when he first walked in was gone; he was far calmer now.

“Hey, Ukitake?”

He blinked. “What is it?”

Kyouraku turned around, and gave him a soft smile, slightly wistful at the edges. “Thanks.”

One day, Jyuushirou mused, he would tell Kyouraku that he was much more charming when he wasn’t trying. Then again, he was sure that the other man already knew, so he would probably keep that revelation for when Kyouraku was depressed and needed a pick-me-up. Or when Jyuushirou realised that Starrk was in the right set of mind to be charmed.

“We’re long past the need for thanks,” he said, leaning on the table. “Now leave. You’re cluttering up my division.” 

Kyouraku feigned a swoon. “Such undeserved cruelty. You wound me.”

“Perfectly deserved,” Jyuushirou retorted. 

The other man laughed again before he left. Jyuushirou looked around the room before he began to clear up the cups and teapot.

As he did so, he stretched his senses out, feeling for Kyouraku’s reiatsu. The man was in his favourite spot for thinking – in the woods near some of the lower districts of Rukongai. So he was planning then; Jyuushirou wasn’t surprised. 

Honestly, he was still worried. Not about Starrk, but about Kyouraku – though he had some form of affection towards the former, the thousand-year loyalty he had for his friend would win over it at any time. It had been a truly long time since Kyouraku had truly fallen in love, and he hoped that his friend wouldn’t be hurt by it.

No point in fretting over it now. He would just have to wait and see, and perhaps offer advice if there was a need.

***  
 _  
The sheets are cool beneath his body, and there is a sound… a constant_ scrape, scrape, scrape _. It is somewhat annoying, so he opens his eyes a fraction._

_An expanse of black silk is spread beneath him, and white beyond that. Starrk spreads his hand over the cloth, his mind still muddled from sleep, trying to figure out where it has come from. There isn’t a futon in his rooms, only cushions… The only futon he has ever seen is in…_

_He sits up immediately, blinking and rubbing his eyes. His body protests his movement at the very moment, a sharp ache shooting up his spine, jolting his memory._

_The sight of Aizen-sama’s smilingly serene face above his own, his heated hands pressing Starrk down onto the futon, his cock driving into him with a single-minded intensity, the wrenching mix of pain and pleasure that burns every thought out of his mind…_

_.. Ah, right. That’s how he has fallen asleep here._

_Aizen-sama’s eyes are on him. Starrk looks up, seeing his Lord – the man who has saved him from the hopeless emptiness of the desert – sitting in_ seiza _before his desk. Aizen-sama’s fingers were curled around a black stick, and he is rubbing it in circles over the surface a polished black stone. A pool of black spread wider with every movement. Starrk blinks at the sight, curiosity tugging at him, before he remembers the manners he has been taught._

_“I’m sorry for sleeping so long, Aizen-sama,” he murmurs softly, bowing his head._

_“It’s alright,” Aizen-sama says easily. “I only wish that my sleeves are long enough for you to sleep on.”_

_Starrk blinks, confused. Sometimes Aizen-sama speaks in riddles he doesn’t know how to unravel._

_“Come here, Starrk.”_

_He nods, crawling over on his hands and knees. Every movement makes the pain shoots up his spine again, and he winces a little when he feels blood start to trail down his thighs. Aizen-sama notices immediately – of course he does – and he gives Starrk a gentle smile._

_“Does it hurt?”_

_“Yes,” he says, because Aizen-sama has taught him not to lie about such things. “But I like that it hurts.”_

_Aizen-sama reaches out. His hand cups Starrk’s cheek, and the skin is almost hot enough to burn. “Why is that so, Starrk?”_

_“It means that I have given you pleasure,” Starrk says. This is one of his first lessons: pleasure does not come easily, for it has to be bought with pain, and he is perfectly willing to buy Aizen-sama’s pleasure with his pain._

_“You learn quickly,” Aizen-sama says. The heat of his hand dims a little, and Starrk sighs in pleasure, turning his head to nuzzle against the silk-smooth skin. He hears Aizen-sama’s soft chuckle in his ear._

_“I think I’ll reward you for good behaviour, Starrk,” Aizen-sama’s hand toys with the ends of his hair, tugging lightly on the strands. “I’ll tell you what I mean by my regret over my sleeve.”_

_Starrk knows his cue: he shifts immediately, pulling back to sit in_ seiza _. The pain worsens, but he ignores it – he will heal once he’s out of this room, and the pleasure in Aizen-sama’s eyes at his obedience is worth it._

_“Once, long ago, there was an Emperor. His name was Ai, for sorrow; he named himself thus for the sorrows he felt whenever his realm was beset with disasters, and there were many disasters during his rule._

_“However, there was one salve for the Emperor’s heart, and that was his concubine, Tou-Ken. Tou-Ken was a beautiful young man, and the most famous story between the Emperor and his lover is that of the cut sleeve.”_

_Aizen-sama’s voice is low and soothing, washing over Starrk with every word. Gradually, his eyes half-lids._

_“Am I boring you, Starrk?”_

_He cracks open one eye lazily before he shakes his head. “I’m listening, Aizen-sama.”_

_A hand slides over his hair. The grip is a little too tight on the strands, and Starrk forces his eyes wide open, and to_ stay _open. Aizen-sama looks at him before a long moment before he smiles._

_He continues the story with his hand still there, nearly ripping out the strands._

_“One day, the Emperor and Tou-Ken fell asleep on their bed together. When the Emperor awoke, he realised that he could not move from the bed, for Tou-Ken was sleeping on his sleeve. The sight of Tou-Ken’s face in repose was so beautiful that the Emperor could not find it within himself to wake the young man. Instead, he took the knife he kept beside his bed, and cut off his sleeve to let the young man sleep while he attended to court.”_

_The grip has loosened by now. Starrk breathes a little easier, swallowing as Aizen-sama strokes his hand through his hair._

_“Isn’t it a beautiful story, Starrk?”_

_Lowering his gaze, Starrk nods. “It is, Aizen-sama.”_

_Aizen-sama leans in, and he presses a kiss on Starrk’s temple. His lips feel like raw fire itself, scorching skin, but Starrk forces himself to stay perfectly still and relaxed until Aizen-sama pulls away again. Blood trickled down his face, sliding past the curve of his chin down his neck._

_“You’re dismissed.”_

_Starrk nods. He stands up on shaky legs, steadying himself as he bows at his Lord. His eyes linger on the black stick on Aizen-sama’s hand for a moment before he starts to turn away._

_“Starrk?”_

_He stops instantly._

_“I’m making ink,” Aizen-sama says. “I’ll show you next time.”_

_“Yes, Aizen-sama,” Starrk says, the words coming on automatic. “I look forward to it.”_

__Starrk opened his eyes. Blue skies instead of white ceiling greeted him; so he had fallen asleep on the roof. He didn’t want to sit up.

The dream – _memory_ – lingered like a bad taste at the back of his throat. Starrk dragged a hand through his hair, staring blankly upwards.

He really was looking forward to learning how ink was made. Even now, even when he didn’t even know if any of Aizen’s stories were true or if anything he had shown him was more than just an illusion, Starrk hungered for more. He was too curious by nature, longing for more and more knowledge and memories to fill the empty spaces within his mind.

Except that now he wasn’t sure if any of the memories he had or anything he knew could be trusted.

Except that now his mind liked to go round in futile circles, struggling against the trap made half by Aizen and half by himself, and he really didn’t know if anything he knew was true or not anymore. _  
_  
The only things he had left were his likes and dislikes; things he preferred or abhorred without any kind of reasons to support them. A manner of instinct, or… his hand brushed over the edge of the Hollow hole in his chest.

His hand fell back over his eyes. No, he probably couldn’t call those emotions. In fact, he had no name for these… _things_ there were more than instinct but less than feelings. Maybe the lack of a name meant that he couldn’t really trust them, but…

What else did he have, really? They would be something to hold onto, at least.

If he held on to them, then he at least knew that he didn’t like the pain he felt; the fire that licked at his skin with every touch. But if he didn’t like it, then… then what did that mean?

Starrk had no idea. None of the stories that Aizen had told him, nothing that the man taught him, could explain, and Starrk knew nothing else.

He rolled over to his side, staring blankly at one roof tile. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he didn’t want to be revisited by memories either.

Sighing, he sat up, looking around. He supposed that he should try to find Lilynette now; she had been missing for too long. Somehow, he hoped that she _was_ up to some mischief – at the very least, stopping her would be a good distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story about Emperor Ai and Tou-Ken is real, and that story is the reason why homosexual relationships between men are nicknamed ‘the passion of the cut sleeve’ in China pre-Republic. The romanisation of Emperor Ai’s name (哀) is the same for both Chinese and Japanese, but Tou-Ken’s name is pronounced ‘Dong Xian’ (董賢) in Chinese.
> 
> Also, the whole thing about Aizen’s skin temperature is part of Kyouka Suigetsu’s illusions. Why? Because it’s _Aizen_ and he totally would use his own skin temperature as a manipulative tool/torture instrument. Plus, for an ability that fools all five senses, Aizen never seems to use it for more than just sight and sound. I’m expanding on it.
> 
> … I’m really not sorry for how much of an obsessive, detail-oriented nerd I am. 
> 
> And I _hope_ that I did Shunsui and Ukitake’s relationship justice. Theirs is one of my favourite relationships in canon, and this is my attempt to explain why I just can’t see them as lovers. I really tried, I swear, but I just can’t.


	6. A 'God' on the Stands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aizen's trial. Starrk is not a coward. (Also: Ichigo will never get Hollows. _Never_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Aizen is creepy, but you all know that already.

The air in Hueco Mundo was always heavy, thick with reishi particles that could sustain any Hollow as long as they had no wish to evolve. (Though he could never understand _that_ particular urge: stagnation was little better than death.) There was always the smell of bone and death; the scent of the countless creatures who had died to create the air itself. Aside from those scents, there was nothing else: emptiness as pure as the sands themselves.

Soul Society _stank_. Too little reishi particles, too many smells. Grimmjow gritted his teeth; he couldn’t wait to get out of here, and there were plenty of Shinigami around who wanted him out as well. But no, he was here for Nel’s treatment, and her mask knitting back together, bit by bit, with every new day and treatment. Grimmjow wasn’t sure what it was that the woman Captain with the weird hair had done, but Nel’s eyes were looking more and more like they used to, and she was starting to remember better.

Grimmjow could tolerate the shitty air of Soul Society. He could even tolerate the goddamned Shinigami if it meant that he would have his Neliel back. Or, hell, to be Neliel’s again, whichever way that worked. They never really figured it out because of Nnoitra and Szayel, those bastards.

He remembered the very time he met her: him, one of the biggest newbies to Aizen’s army, already known for running his mouth off, and her, one of the first who broke her mask and gained a sword. 

She had been in her released form the first time they met. He looked at her as she came towards him and his pack, her hooves kicking up sand with every step, her shoulders rolling gracefully with barely-suppressed strength. The wind had whipped through her green hair, trailing from her face, and the mark under her eyes was as red as freshly-spilled blood. 

In that moment, crouched there in the sand, Neliel had been the most beautiful creature Grimmjow had ever seen.

Right then, he made a stupid remark about how panthers ate antelopes for lunch. She had stopped right in front of him, simply staring at his face for a long moment. 

Even until now, Grimmjow had absolutely no idea what happened next. He was just crouched there, on the sand… then he was on his back, her hoof right above his face, threatening to shatter his skull. At the moment, looking at her impassive eyes, he was angry; then she had reached out and pulled him to his feet by the scuff of his neck. She looked at him and _smiled,_ teeth hidden in the corner, and he decided then that he would have her as his mate, no matter what.

Neliel had strength without arrogance, kindness without condescension… not to mention a body that any woman would kill for. The first time she had swallowed his Cero, mouth wide open, he had thought, dizzily, that he would love to see those lips wrapped around his cock. He would even endure the risk of castration just to feel that just once. 

Not that he had been thinking about her mouth recently: given how tiny she was right now, it was just _wrong_. Unlike that fucker Nnoitra, he _did_ have some personal rules. He wouldn’t call it honour – sword or not, he was no dumb _Shinigami_ – but it was something.

Grimmjow sometimes still wished he managed to kill Nnoitra and Szayel. Actually, he wished he killed Aizen too; no one else would have been able to hide the fact that Neliel was still alive from him. He was courting her for _months,_ and she was _this_ close to giving in right before she was reported dead. He couldn’t find her no matter how hard he tried, and that bastard Aizen had only smiled at him, so smugly patient, with every failed attempt. Nnoitra laughed in his face, and the rest of them didn’t seem to care.

All of them were assholes. If he could go back in time and kill every single annoying person in Las Noches, then it would be _great_.

“Grimmjow?”

Jerking his head, Grimmjow came right back to the present to the sight of the _one person_ he would’ve given his damned fangs to not see. His face twisted immediately into a scowl. 

“Grimmjow, you’re alive!” 

God, Kurosaki sounded so fucking stupid. He _looked_ so fucking stupid.

“No shit,” he snorted, looking away.

“What are you doing here?” Kurosaki asked, taking a step forward. Why the hell was the Shinigami coming closer? Grimmjow’s eyes flickered towards the door where Nel was receiving her treatment before he stepped in front of it, using his body as shield between Kurosaki and Nel.

“Fuck off, Kurosaki,” he growled.

“Wait, wait, I don’t want a fight!” Kurosaki waved his hands. “If we fight here then the Captain will scold us and Unohana-san is _really_ scary!” His hands flapped some more. Grimmjow’s eye twitched. 

“Look, I just wanted to know if you’re—” Grimmjow stopped listening at the moment, before the door behind him was opening. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a small green blob heading right towards him.

“Grimm!” Nel chirped happily. “Grimm, Grimm, know what?”

“What?” Grimmjow asked automatically. He kept his eyes focused on Kurosaki, who was looking between him and Nel with wide eyes.

“Nel’s trick lasts longer this time—ITSYGO!” Nel cried out suddenly, flailing towards the Shinigami. Grimmjow stared at her, mouth falling open. She was trying to wriggle out of his arms to go to Grimmjow’s _mortal enemy_ , what the hell? Granted, she probably didn’t know that he hates Kurosaki, but… what the hell?

“Nel, no, that’s an enemy!” He said, pointing towards Kurosaki. “He’s a Shinigami! He’s an enemy!”

Nel shook her head hard. “Itsygo is nice! He’s nice like Grimm is nice!” Grimmjow couldn’t help but growl at the comparison. _No way_. “Nel wants to hug Itsygo, Grimm! Let Nel go!”

“Like hell,” Grimmjow said, scowling even harder. “I’m not letting you go to _him_ of all people.”

Slowly, Nel turned to look at him. There was an odd, calculating look in her eyes right before she grinned.

Then there was a sudden loud _poof_ of smoke.

Before Grimmjow could even register the sudden disappearance of Nel’s weight from his arms, he found himself grabbed by the back of his collar and tossed right out of the nearest window. Dirt immediately went up his nose as a second figure landed right next to him. Grimmjow coughed, rubbing his nose hard. His body had automatically landed in a crouch, and he tried to jump up in that position.

Only to smash the top of his head against someone’s chin, and his elbow into someone else’s ribs.

“Ow!”

“Ow…”

Grimmjow tried to separate the two voices. One was Kurosaki – _hah_ , the guy was such a wimp! – while the other… There was only one person annoying enough to make pain sound so utterly boring. Grimmjow stood up, scowling even harder than before.

“What are you doing here, Starrk?”

Starrk blinked at him. “Walking,” he said, shrugging. “What are you doing, being flung out of windows?”

At the reminder, Grimmjow turned away from the ex-Primera. Just in time to see Neliel, in her full adult glory, jump out of the window. Her bare feet slapped the dirt ground, and she tossed her hair behind the shoulder. Grimmjow had, of course, seen this before – Nel liked to show off her ‘trick’ to him, but he couldn’t help the instinct, immediate dryness of his mouth. 

He swallowed.

She looked at him. Then she tipped her head towards Kurosaki, keeping her eyes on him, as if asking, _What are you going to do about that_?

So was _that_ why he was thrown through glass?

Grimmjow smiled. Then he started to laugh, loud and wild. Looking down at Kurosaki, he kicked hard at the Shinigami’s side.

“Get up!” he roared, reaching out to grip Kurosaki’s collar with one hand. He kept one eye still on Neliel even as he continued to laugh. “Get up and fight me!

““I’ll erase you entirely from her mind. I’ll kill you and make her mine!”

*

Still standing, Starrk dropped his head onto a hand. He yawned.

Kurosaki was looking angrier by the second, while Grimmjow’s grin was growing to the extent that it might eat his entire face. The cause of the conflict, Neliel, was standing by the side, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as she watched the two men start to fight.

It was all rather hilarious, because Starrk knew for a fact that Neliel and Grimmjow were working on a set of assumptions that Kurosaki _clearly_ had no idea about. Ah, Adjuchas… they were almost adorable with the sheer rabidity of their instincts. Starrk didn’t remember what it was like to be one very well, but he remembered enough to pick up the implications of Grimmjow’s words. 

Speaking of the blue-haired ex-Sexta, he was grabbing his sword now, and Kurosaki had evidently given up on yelling ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about’ and ‘What the hell is going on’ and was going for his own blade as well.

Not good. Starrk knew that if a fight broke out, the Shinigami would blame Grimmjow entirely instead of Kurosaki. Then whatever favourable impressions the Arrancar had made with them would go straight down the drain.

Standing up, he grabbed Kurosaki by the collar, pulling him back and taking him off-balance. Before the boy could react, Starrk clapped both hands on his shoulders and whirled him around to face Neliel.

“Listen up, you two,” he called towards the Arrancar before he shook Kurosaki a little.

“Kurosaki, right? Look ahead. What do you see?”

“Eh?” Kurosaki sounded confused, irritated, and angry all at once. Starrk couldn’t help but be amused at the sheer variety of emotions he could insert into one sound.

“Answer the question.”

“I see Nel! Neliel! What do you want me to say!? Let go of me!”

Starrk ignored most of it. He suspected that Kurosaki was smarter than he was acting – with the boy’s power, there was no way Starrk could hold onto him if he was really trying to escape.

“What do you see? Her face? Her breasts? Do you want to touch her?” Starrk threw the questions out, more than a little amused at how Grimmjow’s growling increased in volume with every word. “Do you want to claim her, take her, make her yours?”

“What? No!” Kurosaki finally stopped struggling, his mouth gaping wide open. His skin was turning red; Starrk wondered what that particular reaction meant. He had never known anyone to react like that. “No, no, no! Why would you- that’s- no!”

“Tell him,” Starrk jerked his head towards Grimmjow, who now looked more shocked than angry. “Tell her too. They both thought you wanted to.”

“No! Nel is-” Kurosaki’s eyes flickered over to the green-haired woman, and he seemed to be even more flustered than usual. “She’s like my little sister, okay? She’s little! She’s a kid!”

Grimmjow stalked forward. Starrk instantly relinquished his grip on Kurosaki, stepping back just as Grimmjow grabbed the boy by the collar. “She’s not little now,” he pointed out, snarls distorting his words. 

Kurosaki’s eyebrow twitched. Starrk watched, far too amused, as his hand shot upwards to clip Grimmjow right on the jaw.

“I _said_ that I am _not interested_ already!” he yelled, face entirely red. “Ugh! I don’t even understand what you’re talking about!”

Neliel chose that moment to step forward. She reached out and put a hand right on top of Kurosaki’s head before ruffling it hard. “Now _who_ is the kid?” she said. Her voice sounded odd – childish and high, a sharp contrast to her very sensual adult body and that smile, full of implications.

Her grin widened even further. “If you want some answers, ask your Hollow.”

“Why would he know something I don’t?” Kurosaki asked, sounding as if he was sulking.

The two Arrancar exchanged a look. Grimmjow sneered, turning away. 

“Because knowledge like this is instinctive,” Neliel said after a long moment. “It’s within every Hollow’s head the moment they were made, even if they won’t know how to articulate it until they become an Adjuchas.”

She shrugged. “Sorry, Itsygo,” she said, and Starrk had a distinct idea that her child-form’s misspeaking of Kurosaki’s name had now become a nickname. “I thought you knew.”

Kurosaki sighed heavily. “I don’t know, alright?” he grumbled, dragging a hand through his hair. Then his eyes flickered over to Starrk.

“Hey, you are…” Starrk waited. Kurosaki had been there when the old man with the fire in his sword had said his name plenty of times; he wondered if the boy would remember.

“Sorry, I don’t—”

“He’s Coyote Starrk,” Grimmjow introduced gruffly. “Primera Espada, when those numbers still mattered.” He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes.

“What are you doing here, Kurosaki?”

“Oh, hey,” Kurosaki greeted him hurriedly. Starrk almost smiled. “Anyway, I, uh… I was supposed to help Byakuya escort Ichimaru to the courtroom for the trial.”

Any mirth, any amusement, Starrk might have felt instantly died. The reminder was like a sudden slap in the face, and he turned away.

“Why you?” Grimmjow asked, sounding irritated.

“Don’t know,” Kurosaid said carelessly. “I didn’t ask. Hey, do you all have to be there too?”

“We do,” Neliel nodded. “That’s why they were trying so hard to heal me, so that I can remember enough. Though now…” her brows furrowed. “I might not last long enough.”

Starrk cocked his head. He could almost feel the reiatsu spilling out from the crack in her mask, though it was much less than it had been when he first brought her back here.

“I can give you the power you need to last until you give your testimony, at the very least,” he offered. “I don’t mind.”

Neliel blinked. “Why?” she asked. “I don’t even know you.”

“And aren’t you pissed at me?” Grimmjow narrowed his eyes.

Kurosaki was looking between the three of them, mouth opening and closing periodically. He looked somewhat like a fish. 

Starrk shook his head, “I’m not angry.”

Then he turned fully to the shadows hidden in between the Fourth Division buildings. “Can I, taichou-san?”

Kyouraku chuckled before stepping out into the sunlight. “When did you realise?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

The tension in the air suddenly increased; the two Arrancar probably were immediately on their guard when they realised that there was someone else with great power there that they hadn’t realised. Even Kurosaki’s jaw was clenched, barely relaxing when he recognised the man. Honestly, he didn’t know if this said more about the boy or the Captain… probably the latter.

“You’re not being very subtle,” Starrk pointed out. Not to him. “But can I?”

“I don’t see why it would hurt,” Kyouraku shrugged. “But why are you asking me permission for such a thing?”

He rolled his eyes. “Because I know that if I didn’t, you’ll barge in right when I was about to try, saying something inane just to make a dramatic entrance.”

The Captain stared at him for a moment before bursting out into laughter. “Starrk-san,” he said. “You really are something, aren’t you?”

Grimmjow was staring at the two of them, his eyebrows rising. Ignoring him, Starrk walked towards Neliel. Slowly, he raised his hand to the level of her face, letting power collect on his fingertips. Blue orbs of light began to grow – like tiny little Ceros, but without any heat. They were simply pure, condensed reiatsu.

Neliel was looking at him, still obviously curious. But Starrk was tired of explaining himself, and he didn’t know if she would understand anyway, given that she knew nothing of him.

All he was simply fulfilling a selfish wish: he just wished that his power, which had always harmed, could be used to help someone else, even if it was just once.

Her lips parted, and Starrk flicked the little balls right into her mouth. The moment they left him, Starrk felt tired, almost drained, for the briefest moment before the power kept back by the restraints rushed in to fill in the gap left behind.

She absorbed them, swallowing before she gave him a small smile.

“Thank you.”

He shrugged, shoving his hands to his pockets. “Don’t mention it.”

“Kurosaki Ichigo,” a voice suddenly called from behind them. “Are you quite finished?”

“Eh?” Kurosaki whirled around. “Oh, hey, Byakuya! I didn’t see you there!” The boy bounded over to the Shinigami’s side. He turned and waved towards Grimmjow and Neliel. “I’ll see you two later, Grimmjow, Nel! And nice to meet you, Starrk-san.”

“We’re not here for a tea party, Kurosaki Ichigo,” the other man intoned.

“Huh? Of course we’re not. There isn’t any tea around.”

Starrk looked after their retreating backs for a moment before he turned towards Kyouraku. He knew the Shinigami was here to pick him up, and he had no reason not to follow.

“Wait," Grimmjow’s voice stopped him.

“What is it?”

“You should be angry,” the other Arrancar said, and he sounded frustrated. “You should be angry at me for what I said. You punched me. I _knew_ you were pissed, bastard. So why are you helping Neliel, eh?”

Starrk didn’t resist as he was spun around by his collar. Behind and beside him, Kyouraku’s hand was twitching for his swords, but Starrk only stayed completely still and relaxed.

“What the hell are you playing at, _Primera_?”

“Nothing,” Starrk said evenly. “I helped because I wanted to. And I’m not now angry because I’m not.”

Grimmjow growled, shoving his face right up against Starrk’s, shaking him a little. “ _Why_?”

He shrugged in reply, looking away. “What’s the point?” he asked rhetorically. “Like you said, I punched you. What more can I do?”

“You can _fight me_.”

Despite the fangs bared right in his face, Starrk didn’t move an inch. “I don’t like fighting.”

“You’re a _Hollow_ ,” the other Arrancar hissed. “You _should_ like fighting.”

“I don’t.”

Fighting only led to pain, to death, and Starrk had enough of both without having to even lift a finger. Why would he want more?

Grimmjow stared at him for a moment more before letting go, making a sound of complete disgust. “ _Ugh_ ,” he let go. “You fucking piss me off just by existing.”

Starrk straightened, sighing. “I’ll just stay out of your way then.” 

Before Grimmjow could reply, he was already off in _sonido_ , heading towards the woods near the Thirteenth Division. The courtroom was in the First, and he wasn’t going near that place until he had to. He still had some time.

Somehow, when Kyouraku flash-stepped right next to him, he wasn’t surprised.

“He’s quite a firebrand, isn’t he?” the Captain commented. “Grimmjow-san, I mean.”

“If you mean that he’s angry all the time, then yes,” Starrk replied. He glanced over to the Captain for a moment.

“Are you required to follow me at every moment?” he asked, not bothering to curb the irritation in his tone. “I didn’t realise I was a prisoner, taichou-san.”

The Seireitei might be large, but it seemed to be more like a gilded prison day by day, with every single Shinigami who looked at him with suspicions the guards of his cell, and the man now beside him the head warden. 

“You’re not,” the man said quietly. “I’m sorry for intruding, Starrk-san, but I was worried.”

Starrk gave him a sceptical look. “When you came looking for me the first time, or when you followed me?”

“You were gone when I went to my Division this morning,” Kyouraku answered, his hands folding into his sleeves. 

“I told fukutaichou-san where I was going,” Starrk pointed out, because he knew there was no use telling Kyouraku that he wasn’t answering his question.

“You told Nanao-chan that you were going for a walk,” Kyouraku corrected gently. “Not where you were going. Not even Lilynette-chan knew.”

Starrk shrugged.

“And with what will happen today…” Kyouraku hesitated.

“You mean Aizen’s trial?” Starrk raised an eyebrow. “You can say his name around me, you know.”

Kyouraku gave him a solemn, searching glance. “I’m not sure if I can,” he said. 

Starrk stopped walking. He turned around, facing the Shinigami for a moment before he sighed. His shoulders sagged downwards, hitting a tree, and he let himself slide down until he was sitting at the base.

The Captain really didn’t know how to give up. He sat down next to Starrk immediately. Those grey eyes were still fixed upon him. 

“What do you know about me, taichou-san?” Starrk asked tiredly. 

“Nothing beyond what you told me.”

Stupid question to ask a man who played tricks with words. Starrk almost laughed, but he swallowed the bitter sound. “Let me rephrase,” he said. “What _guesses_ have you made about me?”

Kyouraku didn’t reply immediately. Starrk leaned back on the tree, staring up to the skies, as he waited.

“You don’t trust me,” Kyouraku began finally. “You don’t trust me because you think that I don’t trust you and your power. You _can’t_ trust me, because you trusted Aizen, and he used you so badly that you’re afraid of trusting anyone again.”

Slowly, Starrk’s hands started to clench.

“You want so desperately to fill the loneliness inside, but you’re afraid to reach out. You are so afraid that you don’t even use my name, because you think that I will eventually turn my back on you.” 

Kyouraku was peeling him apart, stripping him of his meagre defences, exposing raw nerves to the cold air.

Starrk wished, helplessly, for his hierro to be less strong than it truly was. He wanted to feel the pain of his nails cutting through his skin, if only so it could stop the pounding ache in his ache, the searing heat in his chest.

“Starrk-san, I guessed a lot of things. But I don’t know if I’m right.”

Turning to the Shinigami, Starrk refused to meet his eyes. Instead he stared somewhere above Kyouraku’s left shoulder.

“You are.”

Kyouraku’s hand reached towards him. Starrk found himself following it, uncomprehending, as the hand dropped onto his shoulder. He had seen that gesture made a few times, and he knew what it meant – a casual touch between friends, meant somehow to give comfort. But it didn’t ease the ache within him, because he knew it was false.

After all, they weren’t friends.

“Will you at least let me try to gain your trust?” Kyouraku asked. “If only because you’re not a coward.”

“Do you know that, or you’re guessing?” Starrk asked. There was wryness to his own voice that surprised himself. He hadn’t thought himself capable of such a thing right now.

“I know,” Kyouraku stated simply. “If you are a coward, then you wouldn’t be going to the trial today.”

“Didn’t I just run away from the very mention of it?” 

Kyouraku chuckled. “You could’ve opened a Garganta into Hueco Mundo in the morning, and no one would be wiser,” he said, lips quirking to the side. “The restraints still allow you enough power to do so. You could’ve just taken Lilynette-chan and ran.

“You could’ve done that, and though Ukitake and I would’ve noticed immediately, we couldn’t have found you within a day. Hueco Mundo is a vast place, and neither of us know it well.”

It was unsettling just how well Kyouraku could read him. Those very thoughts had run through Starrk’s mind before he discarded them, because he couldn’t even imagine himself doing such a thing.

“But you didn’t,” the Captain continued. “That’s why I said you are not a coward, Starrk-san.”

Starrk shook his head. “You say that I’m afraid and that I’m not a coward in nearly the same breath,” he pointed out. “Aren’t you contradicting yourself?”

“Not at all!” Kyouraku laughed. “Courage is looking your fear right in the eye and not turning away from it. The true coward is a man who had never been afraid.”

Eyes widening, Starrk stared at him. His lips parted, but no words escaped.

_“Do you know why Barragan and all those below you follow me, Starrk?_

_“It’s because I’m the most courageous man they had ever met. I am afraid of nothing._

_“Courage, Starrk, is fearlessness. Can you be fearless for me?”_

_“Will you be fearless enough to kill for my sake?”_

__Perhaps he had never managed to learn that lesson because it was wrong, and he had always known it to be wrong. Gradually, without his mind’s bidding, his lips curled up into a smile.

“You really are quite something, taichou-san,” he said.

“Oh, come on now!” Kyouraku exclaimed, nearly pouting. “Why won’t you call me by my name?”

Starrk dropped his head onto a hand, his smile fading. “If I ever know to trust you,” if he ever did, “I’ll call you by your name.”

Kyouraku looked at him for a moment before he grinned. “I look forward to that,” he said. “On that day, you should call me Shunsui.”

“You’re so sure I will?”

“Of course,” he flung a hand into the air. “I have full confidence in my own charm.”

The display was so overly dramatic that Starrk couldn’t stop the soft chuckle from escaping.

Smile softening at the edges, Kyouraku stood. He held out a hand. “Shall we get moving, then?”

He still didn’t want to. In fact, the last thing he wanted to do was to face Aizen again, to even see his face. But, as Kyouraku said, he wasn’t a coward.

Reaching out, he took the offered hand, pulling himself up. There was warmth he could feel – Kyouraku’s power was strong enough to cut through his hierro like it was nothing – and Starrk looked towards the distance of the First Division.

The silence sat between them for a long moment. It was almost comfortable.

Starrk sighed.

“Let’s go.”

***

He found Lilynette at the doors of the courthouse. She was chatting with a small, pink-haired girl who was standing right next to an abnormally tall man with an even more abnormally large reiatsu. The man’s face was vaguely familiar, but Starrk couldn’t remember where he had seen him before.

The moment Lilynette noticed him, she came to his side, her hand gripping onto his sash.

“Where were you?” she asked belligerently.

“Taking a walk,” he shrugged. Putting a hand on her head, he nodded towards the odd pair. “Did you make a friend?”

“Kind of?” Lilynette chewed on her lip. “She’s weird, and she gave me this thing called candy that tasted good.” She shrugged. “She said her name is Yachiru.”

So Lilynette had made her first friend, then. Starrk couldn’t help but smile – he had always thought that she would befriend someone far faster than he did. Because she was more outgoing, and also…

Aizen, for all his cruelties, had never touched Lilynette. Perhaps he knew that doing so would alienate Starrk from him forever.

The thought of that man made him edgy again, and he remained tense even as he took his seat amongst the stands. Kyouraku sat to his left, Lilynette to his right, and Ukitake sat down on her other side the moment he came in.

“So I see that you found Starrk-san, Kyouraku,” the white-haired Captain greeted.

Starrk’s eye twitched. “I wasn’t missing,” he insisted. “I was taking a walk.”

“Of course,” Ukitake said easily. “My mistake.”

Situated like this, Starrk and Lilynette were bracketed by the two Captains; they couldn’t escape without having to go through either one of them. And, well, no one else could get to them either without having to go through the Captains. Starrk wasn’t sure which option he preferred.

His thoughts were interrupted when Harribel walked through the doors. Her usual entourage was missing – she likely left her fraccion back in Hueco Mundo – and she was instead accompanied by the short female Captain and the even shorter white-haired Captain. Harribel caught his gaze and nodded before she took her seat opposite them, and the Captains exchanged a glance for a moment before moving to the other side of the courtroom, closer to the judge’s pedestal.

Grimmjow and Neliel came next, followed by the Captain of the Fourth Division. Her name was… Unohana, was it? She smiled at the two of them, which Grimmjow returned with a scowl and Neliel a smiling nod, before she left them to head towards the row of seats right beside the judge’s seat as well.

... Starrk was starting to suspect that Kyouraku and Ukitake were sitting beside himself and Lilynette for their protection, to make some kind of statement. Though what kind of statement it was, he couldn’t figure out. 

He had to shelve those wandering thoughts when Ichimaru came in. The sound of chains clacking followed his every step, and his arms were held tightly by Kurosaki on one end and the stern-looking Captain with white sticks in his dark hair on the other. The two of them led him to the fenced-off accused bench, practically shoving him in before standing guard right outside. 

Ichimaru’s smile did not falter even once. Starrk wasn’t even sure if it ever would.

A whole group of people strode in next. They wore clothes completely unlike the other Shinigami, and Starrk blinked. He recognised some of them – they were the ones with the Hollow masks – but not the blond man with the green striped hat or the woman with the orange shirt. The group of them sat together in a tight-knit group, scowling at everyone else in the room. Starrk watched curiously as the blond placed a small crystal on the railing in front of him.

Then _he_ came in.

Aizen looked different from the last Starrk had seen him. The usual slicked-back hair was gone, replaced by limp, oily strands that fell around his face. He looked gaunter than he did before, and every single piece of white was gone, replaced by grey, shapeless cloth. Like Ichimaru, his forearms were encased in stone, and his ankles were similarly bound. However, unlike Ichimaru, the stone didn’t feel like the reiatsu-suppressing ones. It felt like nothing more than mere _stone_.

The reason for that was clear: the usual weight of Aizen’s presence was gone. The reiatsu that hovered around him, so incredibly oppressive that it had filled any room that he was in, had completely disappeared. The darkness that surrounded him had vanished as well, though… there was still that strange light on his chest.

But the Hogyoku’s presence barely registered in Starrk’s senses. It seemed entirely drained.

There was an old man by Aizen’s side, his gnarled hand gripping tightly to Aizen’s arm. Starrk barely looked at him.

“So many nostalgic faces,” Aizen murmured, sounding perfectly calm. “Though some…” his gaze landed on Grimmjow and Neliel, “are unexpected.”

Grimmjow growled, pulling forward. Neliel placed a hand on his arm, and he relaxed minutely, though the sound of his barely-restrained snarls still filled the air. 

The old man pulled him forward, and Aizen went easily, his steps measured. His eyes continued to drift around the room.

“I’m so flattered that all of you are here for me.”

He was standing barely inches away from Starrk now. Starrk pulled Lilynette closer, nearly crushing her to his chest, but she didn’t protest; she held him just as tightly.

Slowly, Aizen’s eyes turned on him. His lips curved into a smile, and he about-turned suddenly, crossing the inches between them in a single step and nearly dragging the old man with him. Starrk found himself standing automatically, and he watched, frozen, as Aizen’s fingers trailed over his jaw.

“I was so disappointed when you turned against me, Starrk,” he murmured, his face so close that Starrk could feel his breath drifting over his skin. No, it was just a ghost of a memory, because surely, surely…

“You were always the one closest to me, even more than Gin. Do you think any of them can understand you? Do you think they know how it feels to be completely alone, even in a room as crowded in this? I’m the only one who could ever understand the loneliness you feel.

“ _My loyal Primera_.”

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM!”

Several things happened at the same time: three hands shoved Aizen in the chest and face, the old man _pulled_ , and there were several people on their feet. He could hear Grimmjow’s voice, Kyouraku’s, Ukitake’s, Lilynette’s, Harribel’s, and even Kurosaki… Kurosaki?

An arm – he couldn’t tell whose – wrapped around his waist, shoving him down onto the bench. Lilynette’s weight was suddenly on him, pinning him down. Starrk couldn’t tear his eyes away from Aizen’s face: the smug smile, the arrogant eyes, and suddenly, he _knew_.

“I’m not going to break you out of those chains,” he heard himself saying, his lips forming words before his mind could even catch a single wisp of them.

“I’m not going to help you escape.”

He wasn’t sure if he was telling Aizen, or the people around him, or even himself. He was only sure of the absolute conviction of those words.

There was a flash of anger in Aizen’s eyes that he barely caught before there was a fire-hot reiatsu in the room, thinning the air even further, and Starrk watched with inescapable fascination as Aizen stumbled and nearly fell to his knees.

“ _Move, infant_ ,” the old man said, his voice like thunder.

Aizen’s lips were drawn back, and he was nearly snarling with rage when he glanced back at Starrk. Starrk could only stare at Aizen’s back as he was literally shoved into the accused’s bench, right beside Ichimaru.

In his mind, there was a loud _crack_. Like breaking glass.

Like the shattering of an illusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might be able to tell, my opinion of Ichigo is very similar to Yoruichi's: this kid is so hilariously easy to make fun of, omg. I'm taking him seriously, I swear I am. /snickers.
> 
> Please tell me how I'm doing with Neliel and Grimmjow! I'm kind of nervous about them, to be honest, and any criticism or suggestion will be hugely appreciated.


	7. All Lies Ever Told

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starrk remembers, and he understands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** : Vague descriptions of dub-almost-non-con sex, complete bastardisation of stories, concepts and ideas, gore, immense fucked-upness… Oh, and length. This chapter is _long_ , guys.
> 
> **Notes** : The song lyrics are used are from Nick Cave’s _Where the Wild Roses Grow._ It is one of the creepiest songs in existence, and it is perfectly fitting for Aizen and Starrk’s relationship in this fic.

_From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one_  
As she stared in my eyes and smiled  
For her lips were the colour of the roses  
That grew down the river, all bloody and wild 

_Heartbeats uncountable Starrk has spent in the desert, and he has never known the colour of the sands until Aizen-sama has shown it to him. He reaches out, flattening his hand on the white, white wall in front of him, stretching his arm as he pushes it up and up. The ceilings are so high here in Las Noches, arching higher above him than even the mountain of bones that he has left behind._

_Las Noches is a castle raised from the sands itself, the grains packed together to form walls and dorms through a skill named kido. When Aizen-sama told him that tale, Starrk has felt a strange, aching longing in his chest; a wish that his Lord had found him sooner, so he could have watched the castle being built._

_It had been such a strange thing – and still is – to feel something more than a constant, devouring_ want _for companionship._

_His thoughts are drifting._

_Opening the door, Starrk steps into Aizen-sama’s rooms. Everything here is white as well, the only spots of colour the warm brown of Aizen-sama’s eyes and hair. The man smiles at him, and behind Starrk, the door is pushed shut again with just the barest nudge of Aizen’s reiatsu._

_The sound echoes, bouncing off the sheer emptiness that sits between the walls. Starrk’s eyes half-lids as he listens: he will never tire of it, the way that the air itself seems to tremble around him. He can feel it shiver against his skin: in this room, his hierro is non-existent. Aizen-sama’s power washes over him and strips him down, forcing his body to become as powerless as it looks, no more powerful than an average human soul._

_Aizen-sama walks towards him, every single footsteps he takes loud against the stone. Starrk takes in the sight, the very first steps he has ever taken by Aizen-sama’s side still seared into his mind: three sets of footsteps left behind on the sands, more precious than anything else could ever be._

_“Starrk,” Aizen-sama murmurs._

_His hand is warm on Starrk’s jaw. Starrk smiles, tilting his head towards the hand, letting the soft-silk of the skin caress his own._

_“You called for me, Aizen-sama?”_

_“I did,” Aizen-sama’s eyes are warm and his smile is kind, and Starrk finds his breath hitching in his throat when he leans in and presses a kiss into his hair._

_“How are you settling in?” his Lord and Master asks, his voice ghosting over the curve of Starrk’s ear._

_Slowly, Starrk pulls away. “Las Noches is beautiful,” he says hesitantly. “But the others here…”_

_Although Starrk doesn’t remember having anyone else beside him but Lilynette, he still recognises the look in their eyes whenever his new comrades look at him: anger, resentment,_ fear _. He has tried to reach out; tried to convince them that he wants nothing from them than their presence, but none of them ever seem to believe him._

_Every time he extends a hand, he is met only with snarls, growls, and, on one memorable occasion, a bite that had nearly crushed the blue-haired Arrancar’s teeth._

_“I cannot convince them to befriend you, Starrk,” Aizen-sama says, and though his smile is still gentle, Starrk cannot help but duck his head down in shame. “I have given you comrades with whom you can stand beside without causing their deaths; it is you who must win their friendship.”_

_“Yes, Aizen-sama,” Starrk says, because Aizen-sama has told him that nothing can be had without earning it through effort._

_“I have given you comrades with whom you can stand beside,” Aizen-sama repeats, and his fingers tip Starrk’s jaw upwards to look into his eyes again. Starrk blinks, curious, and Aizen-sama’s smile widens._

_“Let me tell you a story.” Letting go of Starrk, he walks over to the black-sheeted bed. “Come, sit here beside me.”_

_Starrk goes willingly, folding his legs and almost perching at the edge._

_He waits._

_“Once, there was a boy,” Aizen-sama starts quietly. “He had a friend he loved dearly with all of his heart, a friend who eased the dreadful loneliness of his days._

_“One day, he saw something he should not have. He saw three men hold his friend down and take something from her. And the boy was angry, terribly angry, for his friend was_ his _, and he had sworn to protect her. But he was only a boy, and though there was power lying under his skin, he was still very weak at the time. There was nothing he can do but hide and tremble with rage. Somehow, though, he managed to find strength to follow those three men when they left his friend, taking what they had stolen from her with them._

_“The men brought the boy to a demon. What they stole from the boy’s friend was the price they were willing to pay for more power, more strength. You see, Starrk, these men had people they wish to protect as well; friends whom they hold close to their hearts.”_

_Slowly, Starrk’s eyes fall shut. He lets himself sink into the feeling of Aizen-sama’s thumb stroking his jaw, the sound of his voice surrounding him._

_“The boy was reckless and stubborn. He rushed forward, pushing the men aside from the strength of his rage. Standing in front of the demon, he offered himself to the creature entirely. He wants power, he said, and if the demon wishes for a sacrifice in return for it, the boy offers the whole of himself for the power to kill these men, to protect the girl whom he holds so close to his heart.”_

_Aizen-sama leans forward, his lips brushing over Starrk’s temple. The touch sends shivers down Starrk’s spine, and he shudders._

_“The demon looked between the boy and the men, and he laughed. He held what was stolen from the boy’s friend in his hand, and granted the boy’s wish. In that moment, the boy grew into a man, and he became so powerful that he killed those three men instantly. They died with their eyes wide, screams still stuck in their throats.”_

_There is a noise in the base of Starrk’s throat, trying to escape. He swallows hard, trying to not imagine the sight of those men’s eyes as they died; trying to not think of the screams of those who had once tried to approach him._

_“Do you know why the demon chose the boy, Starrk?”_

_Starrk shakes his head. Aizen-sama chuckles, his fingers stroking through Starrk’s hair, moving down to cup the back of his neck._

_“They were selfish creatures, those men,” Aizen-sama tuts. “They tried to offer the demon what is not rightfully theirs, and so they were punished. The boy, however… the boy knows the meaning of selflessness. The boy knows that everything that has been given must be repaid.”_

_Opening his mouth, Starrk chokes on his reply when Aizen-sama shoves him onto the back. His eyes are wide as he stares up to the man who now looms over him, and his breathing quickens when he feels that thumb – the skin searing hot – stroke over his throat._

_“Aizen-sama—” he tries to say._

_His Lord chuckles softly. His hand on Starrk’s throat gentles, stroking up and down. His pulse beneath the skin feels like a pinned butterfly, fluttering hard beneath those fingertips._

_“Do you know what selfishness means, Starrk? It means to take without giving back.”_

_Starrk’s eyes are wide and staring._

_“I have given you comrades with whom you can stand beside…” Aizen-sama murmurs. “Am I really asking for so much in return?”_

_Despite the loneliness of the desert, Starrk understands. He is like those three murdered men who tried to take without giving anything in return. Aizen-sama has given his deepest wish, so to repay him…_

_To repay him, he must give all of himself._

_“No, Aizen-sama,” he says quietly. Beneath Aizen-sama’s fingers, his breathing has evened out once more, and he finds more strength flood into his body as Aizen-sama smiles at him._

_“Whatever you wish of me, I will give.”_

_Slowly, Aizen-sama’s hands stroke down his body. Fingers hook over the collar of the uniform that Starrk has been given. The buttons fly apart immediately at the touch of the powerfully heated skin, and Starrk finds himself fully bared to the other man in the matter of seconds. And that large hand is splaying out above his ribs, fingertips brushing his collarbones, resting right above the Hollow hole that had once been his heart._

_“I thought you would understand,” Aizen-sama whispers. “You truly exceed every single of my expectations, Starrk.”_

_The warmth of Aizen-sama’s praise nearly, almost, overwhelms the fire of his fingers on Starrk’s thighs. Starrk finds his legs being yanked apart; finds his lips crushed underneath Aizen-sama’s; finds that his body being penetrated by a searing length that starts an inferno deep within him that threatens to tear him apart._

_His back arches. Water; there is water on his face. Starrk gasps, his head tossing side to side._

__No.

_The word struggles in his throat, a prey caught in a spider’s web. He stares upwards, eyes unseeing… but those fingers have changed, becoming gently warm once more. Aizen-sama moves, driving into him even as he jerks Starrk’s head backwards, forcing their eyes to meet._

_Within those darkened eyes he sees an aching loneliness that echoes his own. The loneliness of a man with too much power, power he has no wish to have but which he has no ability to be rid of; power that wraps around his limbs and tears apart all those around him; power that drags him higher and higher, until his hands can no longer touch anyone else for fear that they will break apart like gossamer; power that has him reaching out fruitlessly for those who gather at the bottom, wishing that their eyes and smiles will turn towards him._

__Ah.

_Starrk thinks he understands now. Aizen-sama has told him that he has spent a long time searching for Starrk; months upon months combing the wide wasteland of sand, seeking for bones… for the signs of another just like him, whose every touch causes death. In the desperate hope that, perhaps, death will cancel out death in the end._

_“Aizen-sama…” he whispers, his voice choked. With the weight of pain, the weight of understanding._

_“Starrk,” Aizen-sama says. And when Starrk reaches up with tremulous fingers, Aizen-sama leans down and kisses him._

_It feels like the first breath of rain-heavy wind in a desert, cool and refreshing, full of promises. Promises hidden in the corners of Aizen-sama’s mouth as he smiles, promises hidden in his fingertips as they stroke over the edges of Starrk’s Hollow hole, making him tremble with pleasure that he has never thought possible_

_“Give me your pain, Starrk,” Aizen-sama whispers into his ear. “Let your sacrifice bring me pleasure.”_

_Like the boy who has made the greatest of sacrifices for the protection of a friend who knows nothing, Starrk surrenders the whole of himself._

_The very first time, Aizen-sama takes him over and over, until his voice is hoarse with screaming, and his face streaked with salt._

_Aizen-sama’s fingers have burnt the water away._

_When he knocked on my door and entered the room  
My trembling subsided in his sure embrace  
He would be my first man, and with a careful hand  
He wiped at the tears that ran down my face  
_  
*

“Thank you, Neliel Tu Odelschwanck,” the old man intoned, slamming his heavy cane onto the floor. Neliel nodded, stepping back from right in front of the judge’s pedestal where she had been giving her testimony. Starrk tried to remember what she said, but it was all a blank.

The ghosts of his memory had stolen his attention and taken its place.

“Grimmjow Jaegarjaquez, former Sexta Espada,” the Captain-Commander continued, turning his beady-eyed gaze towards the man. “Come forward.”

Grimmjow scowled at the order, but vaulted over the railing from the audience’s stands nonetheless. He shoved his hands into his pocket and sauntered towards the old man, looking as if he had chosen to go instead of being called.

“Yeah?”

A white-haired man with strangely pupil-less eyes took a step forward, catching Grimmjow’s eyes.

“Do you swear upon your own soul that you will speak the truth, and nothing but the truth?”

Exhaling explosively, Grimmjow dragged a hand through his hair. “I ain’t got any reason to lie, do I?” he asked. “I’m not like him.” He jerked his head towards Aizen.

“Do you swear?” the white-haired man pressed. Starrk really should find out his name.

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” Grimmjow grumbled.

The old man nodded – Starrk should figure out _his_ name too – before he looked at Grimmjow, folding his hands.

“We know that you are one of Aizen’s Espada, one of his top-ranking soldiers in his army,” he intoned. “Why did you join him?”

Grimmjow barked a laugh. “’Cause he offered me power,” he drawled.

The silence following his words was oppressive enough for Grimmjow to notice it. His mouth set into a thin line for a long moment before Neliel managed to catch his eyes. She shook her head, and he rubbed a hand over his face irritably.

“Fuck, okay, fine,” he grumbled. “Look, you Shinigami don’t know what it’s like in Hueco Mundo. The weak ones you’ve got here… they won’t survive; they’d be eaten the moment they enter.”

He shoved his thumbs into the hem of his pants, shoulders hunching. “You gotta have power. Without power, you’re food. Without power, you gotta keep running, over and over, and you gotta hope that you don’t meet someone stronger who’d eat you. There’s no place in Hueco Mundo for weaklings unless it’s as a pile of bones at someone’s feet.”

Starrk winced slightly. He clenched his hands, holding them in his lap.

“I got sick of running,” Grimmjow said, shrugging. “So when that bastard there,” he jerked his head towards the man, “told me he could give me power, why the hell would I refuse? I figured I’d wait it out until he kicked the bucket, then find my own place.”

The old man raised a long eyebrow. “You were so confident he’d die?”

Grimmjow barked a laugh. “He’s a Shinigami, and you lot never last long in Hueco Mundo. It’s a shithole and you’re all too soft.”

“Does that mean that he has done nothing to harm you, then?”

“Fuck no!” Grimmjow exploded. “He had that blind bastard take my arm!”

Giving Grimmjow, who was obviously in possession of both arms, a narrow-eyed look, the old man asked softly, “What do you mean by that?”

Starrk knew this story, and he tuned out immediately: he didn’t want to think about how he had done nothing about Grimmjow’s punishment; how he had believed whole-heartedly that Aizen was justified. His eyes started drifting around the room.

Light… light glinting off white, surrounded by black. The strange stick-like things in the white Captain’s hair.

White amongst black. It was familiar.

The courtroom jerked, and disappeared.

*

_On the second day I brought her a flower_  
She was more beautiful than any woman I'd seen  
I said, "Do you know where the wild roses grow  
So sweet and scarlet and free?"  
  
 _“Aizen-sama…”_

_Hands are pinning him to black silk sheets again, a mouth pressing against his throat. Starrk should have no pulse, for he has no heart, but in this room, he can feel the fluttering of his skin against Aizen-sama’s lips; a shallow, rapid thing._

_A butterfly in its last throes, pinned to a wall._

_“Aizen-sama…”_

_Is that voice really his, so tremulous, so afraid? Starrk does not want to be selfish; does not want to take without giving. He has taken so much from Aizen-sama already; has surrounded himself with the feel of people around him, taking comfort in the subtle press of reiatsu against his with every moment he spends in Las Noches. He has been given so much, so surely this… this should not be too much to offer in return._

_And yet a part of his mind is screaming in denial. Yet his body will not obey his desperate commands to relax for the insistent press of Aizen-sama’s fingers; yet his very instincts demand for sour bile to rise in his throat with every kiss._

_“What is it, Starrk?”_

_Brown eyes finally lift to meet his. Starrk winces as fingers leave his body, and he tries not to flinch when Aizen-sama streaks red wetness over his cheeks._

_“Why do you do this?”_

_He clicks his mouth shut immediately, but it is too late: the question has already torn out of him, having built up for days – too long._

_A moment passes. Starrk holds his breath in the back of his throat, and does not dare to move._

_Slowly, Aizen-sama pulls away from him. His white clothes strokes over Starrk’s bared skin, and his eyes narrow as they turn cold._

_“Do you know what the humans believe to be the gods of their world, Starrk?” Aizen-sama asks. He sits on the edge of the bed, his back to Starrk, his shoulders entirely stiff and unmoving._

_Starrk blinks, confused. His mind sings suddenly at those words, at the story and knowledge hidden underneath, and he barely restrains himself from crawling forward. He knows, instinctively, that Aizen-sama will be angry if he does so._

_Instead, he sits up, folding his hands in his lap. “No, I don’t,” he answers quietly._

_“There are many gods,” Aizen-sama begins. He is murmuring, barely loud enough to be heard. Starrk has to strain his hearing to catch the words, forcing himself to not move forward. “In the minds of humans, every province, every village, has its own patron deity who guards and watches over them.”_

_Starrk nods, not even knowing if Aizen-sama can see him, but hoping that it will not ensure that his Lord does not stop._

_“No human has ever seen a god, of course,” Aizen-sama continues, shrugging. “Yet they still believe. In times of flood and famine, humans sacrifice what little they have, giving to the gods in hopes of having a better harvest. Not once do they ever suspect that the gods that they pray to might be the ones who had sent the famine or flood. Their faith in the goodness of their patron is absolute.”_

_Aizen-sama chuckles, the sound low and dark._

_“Perhaps they only believe in such a thing due to their lack of power and their pitiably short lives,” he muses quietly. “But, Starrk…”_

_He turns suddenly, his gaze catching and holding Starrk’s own. Slowly, his smile widens even further, sharp at the edges._

_“There is something admirable in their purity of their faith, isn’t there?”_

_Starrk gasps as a hand grabs his chin, nail digging into his skin as he is dragged forward. Aizen-sama’s eyes pin him down, force him to not move, and Starrk feels as if every breath he has ever taken is being dragged out of him._

_“I have favoured you much, Starrk,” Aizen-sama murmurs. “Despite Barragan’s protests, I have made you the Primera based on your power alone. What human will not be desperate for such favour? What human will not be willing to trust entirely to a god that has shown that so much grace?”_

_Starrk knows his mistake now. He lowers his eyes and bows his head._

_“My deepest apologies, Aizen-sama,” he says, his tongue tripping slightly over the formalistic language. Aizen-sama has been trying to teach him the shape of more complex sentences lately, and though Starrk does not understand the use of it, he has learned eagerly. Perhaps if he shows that he has taken all those lessons to heart, Aizen-sama will not be angry._

_“I will not be selfish any longer.”_

_“Selfish?” Aizen-sama repeats, sounding surprised. “What makes you think of that?”_

_“The faith you have in me must be repaid,” he answers quietly, lifting his eyes to meet Aizen-sama’s brown ones. “I have been very selfish to have doubted you.”_

_A moment of silence passes before Aizen-sama laughs, low and deep and full of warming mirth. "Ah Starrk,” he says, stroking one cheek. “I will never cease to be surprised by the quickness of your mind.”_

_“Aizen-sama?”_

_“Truly, you have exceeded my expectations,” Aizen-sama says, smiling. “It has barely been a week since I have first taught you the meaning of selfishness, and yet you now understand it perfectly.”_

_Starrk closes his eyes, letting his Lord brush his lips over the trembling lids._

_“I am not selfish, Starrk,” Aizen-sama breathes into his ear, teeth grazing over the curve. “You will be rewarded for your faith and your eagerness. There is no need for you to sacrifice your pain for my pleasure today.”_

_Those brown eyes are approvingly gentle when they rest on him, and Starrk lets himself be pushed back onto the bed. He spreads his legs willingly, gasping lightly when Aizen-sama kisses him, opening his mouth to allow that tongue to stroke over every single inch of his mouth._

_He is surrounded by warmth, Aizen-sama’s strong, irrepressible reiatsu surrounding him. Every inch of his Lord’s skin that touches him feels_ good _, like… like something he cannot describe, for he has never felt it before. When Aizen-sama slides into him, his fingers warm and gentle upon his thighs, Starrk finds the words._

_This is what faith and favour of a god feels like. This is what it means to have done well._

_Starrk arches up, surrounded by pleasure, invaded by heat._

_In that moment…_

_In that moment, he swears that he give this man his every desire. There is no longer anything within Starrk that he will not be willing to sacrifice. If he has to give up his life to make this man the ruler of Heaven that he so wishes, then so be it; his life is forfeit._

_After all, Starrk is not a selfish man. He will not take the pleasure his god gives without giving in return.  
_  
 _On the second day he came with a single red rose  
He said: "Will you give me your loss and your sorrow?"  
I nodded my head, as I lay on the bed  
"If I show you the roses will you follow?"  
_  
*

Grimmjow was laughing. The sound of his mad, raucous cackling was loud enough to pierce through the fog in Starrk’s mind, whipping the wisps of memory away by its sheer harshness.

“Fuck, that’s damned rich!” he was saying through gasped breaths, holding his stomach. Starrk blinked, staring at him before flicking over to the old man, who looked stern and unamused.

“Answer the question, Arrancar,” the old man stated frostily.

Straightening, Grimmjow met those dark, slitted eyes. He grinned wide, baring all of his teeth.

“Hold him down and slit his throat,” he said, still chuckling. “Tie him up and all of you stab him until he’s dead.” 

The laughter died suddenly, and the usually volatile man shook his head, strangely solemn. “Do it however you like, but make sure he’s dust and bones at the end of it. If you don’t… you’ll end up regretting it.”

“You have such faith in me, Grimmjow,” Aizen drawled suddenly, and the sound of his voice – his real voice – startled Starrk so much that he would have jumped if Lilynette wasn’t still sitting on him.

He forced himself not to turn to look.

“Faith?” Grimmjow sneered. “You’ve got it all wrong. I _know_ you, you piece of shit. You’re a goddamned _vampire_ , and you’ll suck the life out of anyone unless you’re a pile of dust.”

Aizen opened his mouth, but before he could say another word, the old man was slamming his cane onto the ground. 

“Enough!” he thundered, voice echoing loudly in the courtroom that was suddenly filled with fire-tinged reiatsu. “The accused has not been given permission to speak. You will be _silent_.”

Slowly, his attention turned back to Grimmjow. “Your suggestion will be considered, Grimmjow Jaegarjaquez. You may return to your seat.”

“Finally.”

The old man ignored him, lifting his eyes to scan the crowd once more before his gaze stopped.

“Tier Harribel, former Tercera Espada,” he called. “Come forward.”

With her usual regal fluidity, Harribel stood from her seat. She walked towards the judge’s pedestal, her shoes tapping rhythmically on the ground. Her face was a complete blank even when she caught Grimmjow’s gaze and the man snarled at her.

The Captain-Commander’s lieutenant – Starrk noticed the First Division badge on his arm for the first time – requested for Harribel to speak the truth, and she agreed.

“Are your reasons for joining Aizen Sousuke’s army the same as the other two who had already testified, Tier Harribel?” the old man asked.

Harribel shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. Her voice was so soft that Kyouraku’s shoulders brushed against Starrk’s as he leaned in.

“He promised me a world without sacrifice.”

“Elaborate.”

She closed her eyes. “I am sickened by the state of Hueco Mundo,” she murmured. “Grimmjow sees it as being ruled by power, and though he is not incorrect, his viewpoint is merely typical. I see it differently.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Starrk watched as Neliel put a hand right over Grimmjow’s mouth, stopping him from interrupting Harribel.

“In Heuco Mundo, strength and survival is only possible when there is sacrifice,” she continued in the same quiet voice. “I became a Vasto Lorde by sacrificing the lives of all those around me, and I am sick of it. I sickened of hearing the screams of the dying; I sickened of having to constantly kill just so I will not be destroyed.”

Suddenly, Harribel’s gaze caught his. Starrk’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Aizen promised to give me my dearest wish, using it to win my loyalty.”

The look in Harribel’s eyes… it was so achingly familiar. The pain of being betrayed; the grief of having what one so dearly desired snatched out of their hands by the same person who offered it…

Starrk’s hands trembled. He tore his eyes away from her.

For the third time, the courtroom disappeared.

*

_On the third day he took me to the river_  
He showed me the roses and we kissed  
And the last thing I heard was a muttered word  
As he knelt above me with a rock in his fist  
  
 _“Come here, Starrk.”_

_Starrk steps into the room, hesitating only a moment at the door. His eyes are fixed upon Aizen-sama’s face, at the upward curve of his lips, at the warm brown eyes. He tries to find the hint of loneliness there that he had found but a few weeks ago, but it is absent, hidden away: Aizen-sama only allows it freedom when he takes Starrk to his bed, when he joins their body together, when Starrk’s blood paints his skin until the scent of metal nearly overwhelms that of sex and salt._

_He finds himself seeking for that connection between them for it is the only thing that gives him the urge to wake up whenever he finds himself falling asleep. In the desert, he has slept for so long for it is the only thing that eases his boredom; here, in this castle made of packed white sand and lit by a sun that never moved, he sleeps to ease the itching urge beneath his skin, the buzzing whispers in his mind._

_“You called for me, Aizen-sama?”_

_Aizen-sama beckons him with long fingers bent inwards. Starrk slouches towards him, his legs sluggish as they have been recently. He hides his hands in his pockets._

_Fingers curl over his jaw, thumb stroking over the light stubble of his beard, as Aizen-sama lifts his head to stare into his eyes. Starrk’s breath hitches when he finds it: that small hint of loneliness reaching out to him from the depths right before Aizen-sama gives him a gentle smile._

_“I need you to do something for me,” Aizen-sama murmurs._

_“Anything,” Starrk promises. “Anything for you, Aizen-sama.”_

_The whispers start to shriek in his mind; Starrk silences them. He does not wish to be like those three men; he does not wish to be selfish and give nothing for what he has taken._

_Slowly, Aizen-sama turns his head to the side. For the first time, Starrk notices the broken Arrancar chained to the walls. He stares at it, taking in the feral eyes and the sharp teeth exposed by the thin lips drawn back into a snarl. The mask fragment on his face is a large horn jutting out from the top of his head, slashing down its face before curving into a sharp curve at its jaw._

_Even in this room where his powers are muted, Starrk notices that the reiatsu that the Arrancar owns is barely a whisper in the still air around them. It is, at most, a newly-evolved Adjuchas. Starrk wonders, dully, if it is even capable of speech yet._

_“Do you know why Barragan and all those below you follow me, Starrk?” Aizen-sama asks._

_Starrk blinks at him before he shakes his head. He suspects, but he does not know; and, selfishly, he wants Aizen-sama to tell him, to fill his head, so empty of memories, with knowledge._

_Aizen-sama smiles, his thumb stroking over Starrk’s lips._

_“It’s because I’m the most courageous man they had ever met,” Aizen-sama murmurs. “I am afraid of nothing.”_

_Stepping away from him, Aizen-sama walks over to the nameless Arrancar chained over the wall. His large hand drops down onto red hair, stroking the strands between his fingers before he grips tight and yanks the head backwards, exposing its throat. The Arrancar growls, snarling wordlessly as his teeth snaps, trying to bite._

_“Today’s lesson will be on courage,” Aizen-sama tells him, still smiling. Starrk tries to not shiver, although he cannot help the urge to clench his fingers into fists inside his pockets._

_He beckons at Starrk again, and Starrk stumbles forward, his legs moving on automatic. His eyes are drawn towards the snarling Arrancar, surely newly-made by the Hogyouku, like everyone else in Las Noches._

_(Except Starrk. Yet another way his power and strength has separated him from those around him.)_

_“Kill him.”_

_At the sound of the world ‘kill’, the Arrancar starts to struggle. His thin, human-like wrists strain against the chains pinning him to the wall. Eyes, once blue in colour, has turned bloodshot, the sclera almost entirely red. Spittle flies out of its open mouth, landing on the front of its white uniform tunic._

_A memory tugs at Starrk, vague images forming at the back of his eyelids. A creature covered in fur, standing on all fours, with eyes much like this creature, growling and snapping at everything around it, wild and…_

_Rabid. A rabid_ dog _._

_Starrk knows that he is a wolf. The voices in his mind scream even louder than usual, but the sight of Aizen-sama’s questioning, warm eyes silence them. He opens his mouth, but no words escapes._

_He swallows._

_“I don’t like to kill, Aizen-sama,” he finally manages to say. His voice sounds weak even to his own ears. He remembers the first time that he has questioned Aizen-sama, but surely… surely this is merely a statement of fact?_

_Aizen-sama sighs heavily. He lets go of the Arrancar, and he is immediately in front of Starrk. His power is so great that not even this room can rob him of it, and Starrk forces himself to not tremble when Aizen-sama grips his chin and kisses him forcefully. Lips scorch his skin; teeth that feels like fire itself tears it open. Blood drips down the corners of Starrk’s mouth, staining yet another uniform shirt with red._

_Slowly, Aizen-sama pulls away again. His hand, when it strokes Starrk’s cheek, is gentle and warm._

_“You are afraid,” Aizen-sama says, his voice soft but undeniable. Brown eyes strips away Starrk’s words, tearing away at his skin, leaving him trembling as raw nerves at exposed to his gaze. All of Starrk’s newly-built defences have been torn away, leaving him exposed like he has always been in this man’s eyes._

_“Courage, Starrk,” he says, his voice calmly cutting through the rising whines of the Arrancar right behind him, “is fearlessness.”_

_He smiles._

_“Can you be fearless for me?”_

_A thumb strokes over Starrk’s bleeding lips, spreading red over his skin, the scent of metal over the air._  
  
 _“Will you be fearless enough to kill for my sake?”_

_Starrk cannot breathe. He stares over Aizen-sama’s shoulder to the Arrancar on the ground. It is whining now, aware and intelligent enough to know that it will soon be destroyed. Forcing air through his teeth, Starrk turns to look at Aizen-sama again._

_There is such hope in those brown eyes now._

_“Don’t disappoint me, Starrk,” Aizen-sama says quietly. There is a hint of danger in his tone; not the threat of pain, but one of the heavy, crushing weight of failure. Starrk’s hands tremble in his pockets, and he wants, suddenly, to turn and run away._

_But he will be alone again, and surely…_

_He swallows._

_“I can’t use any of my weapons here, Aizen-sama,” he says; a hopeless, last-ditch protest tangled up with agreement._

_Aizen-sama laughs, the sound rich and deep. He leans in, his lips brushing over Starrk’s temple, right over his hairline._

_“You have your hands, don’t you?” he asks, fingers crawling like a spider over Starrk’s throat. “You need nothing else for a creature like this.”_

_Before Starrk can react, before he can give in the instinctive urge to retch at the_ thought _of ripping apart someone (not something, some_ one _) with his bare hands, Aizen-sama is already stepping back, looking at him expectantly. Starrk stands there, motionless, his mind screaming, his body aching for the oblivion of sleep._

_Then he takes a step forward, lifting his hands from his pockets. He stares at them; stares at the sight of Aizen-sama’s fingers, reaching out to remove one glove. The stark black of the tattoo sears itself to the back of his eyelids._

_“Don’t let me down._

_“My dear Primera.”_

_Starrk gives a moment to wish, desperately and hopelessly, for powerlessness, for surely it is the only thing that can remove the weight of Aizen-sama’s expectations from his shoulders. Such a heavy weight, crushing all the air out of his lungs, making him dizzy…_

_He bites down on his own lips and rushes forward. Though he wants to do nothing else, he does not close his eyes._

_His nails are short; they are not claws and he does not remember them ever being so. But there is strength in the bones of his hand, power in his very grip. He seizes the vulnerable throat, tearing the skin. Blood spills immediately, but the skin is still remaining, an open flap framing the windpipe inside. The Arrancar’s mouth opens as it thrashes, gurgling, blood spurting all over Starrk’s hands, uniform, face…_

_Fingers grab hold of the exposed trachea, ripping it open. Starrk knows, then, that he will never forget the sound: the high-pitched wheezing of air escaping the mess that has once been a throat. He strikes, desperately, almost unseeing, grabbing hold of the mask on top of the Arrancar’s head, breaking it, half-tearing his face off as he rips the bone apart._

_With one last soundless shriek, mouth open and spilling red, the Arrancar collapses and turns into dust._

_Starrk trembles. He stares at his hands; stares at the pieces of flesh sticking on his fingers. Grey spots shiver at the corners of his eyes._

_And Aizen-sama is suddenly in front of him. Starrk watches dully as his Lord takes his hand, raising it to his mouth. Aizen-sama licks the blood clean from the back, until the gothic tattoo of the number one is once more exposed._

_Then Aizen-sama grabs his face with both hands, crushing their mouths together, forces the taste of metal of blood onto Starrk’s tongue. Starrk gasps, trying to pull backwards, but Aizen-sama shoves him down onto the floor, pinning him to the ground with one hand as his lips stretch into a bloodstained smile._

_“Magnificent,” Aizen-sama breathes. “That was a truly a magnificent display, Starrk.”_

_Starrk does not move, barely reacts as Aizen-sama pulls off his hakama, as Aizen-sama digs fingers into him to open up his body. He jerks when Aizen-sama scrapes over a spot inside him, making pleasure burst inside his body; seize when Aizen-sama’s tongue slides over the edges of his Hollow hole, making his body shiver._

_“Starrk.”_

_The sound of impatience in Aizen-sama’s voice pulls Starrk’s focus back to him. He blinks, staring at the other man blankly before realising that Aizen-sama is on top of him, his cock inside him, and Starrk feels almost nothing._

_“_ Starrk _.”_

_His hair is grabbed, forcing him to look into those brown eyes. Starrk’s own grey-blue ones widen when he sees it again: the aching loneliness within the depths, nearly drowned out by the anger at the edges._

_“Don’t ignore me, Starrk.”_

_Surely beneath that harsh growl is a plea; a plea to not be turned away from, a plea to not be abandoned…_

_Starrk breathes in hard through his teeth, using the lingering taste of red to force his mind into complete silence. He reaches up and wraps his arms around Aizen-sama’s shoulders, fixing his gaze on brown eyes so he doesn’t see the streaks of blood he leaves behind with his touch._

_“I’m not ignoring you, Aizen-sama,” he says._

_Aizen-sama stares at him for a moment before he smiles again: gentle, warm, nearly beatific._

_He takes hold of Starrk’s legs, folding them into half before he fucks him again; fucks him into the pool of blood; fucks him into the floor where an Arrancar – almost like Starrk – has once been chained, struggling in a desperate attempt to live._

_Like the first time, Aizen-sama’s fingers burnt the tears dry._  
  
 _On the last day I took her where the wild roses grow_  
And she lay on the bank, the wind light as a thief  
As I kissed her goodbye, I said, "All beauty must die"  
And lent down and planted a rose between her teeth 

*

“Starrk-san?” Kyouraku was whispering by his side, his hand shaking Starrk’s shoulder hard. “Starrk-san!”

He jerked, dragging a breath through his teeth. The air tasted of ashes.

Blinking, he turned towards Kyouraku, eyes still wide from the memories that had dragged him into their depths. Kyouraku looked at him for a moment before saying, gently, “It is your turn.”

Ah, right; his testimony. Harribel was always halfway back to her seat. Starrk lifted his head, meeting her eyes for a moment. The dreadful similarity was gone – her gaze was as impassive as always now, though she nodded to him before she walked, straight-backed, to her seat. 

“Coyote Starrk and Lilynette Gingerbuck,” the old man called, slamming his cane onto the ground. “We do not have all day to wait for you.”

Starrk shrugged off Kyouraku’s hand before exchanging a glance with Lilynette. She was looking at him with solemn eyes, reaching out. Wrapping his fingers around hers, they walked down the steps, footsteps in tandem, before turning towards the high pedestal where the Captain-Commander was.

They stood in front of him and lifted their heads to meet his gaze. Starrk could feel the heavy weight of the stares of all those around them, but he only swallowed a sigh.

He swore to speak the truth mechanically. By his side, Lilynette’s voice sounded small.

“I presume that your reasons for following Aizen were different from the rest,” the old man said, lifting an eyebrow at them.

Starrk lidded his eyes. “Lilynette,” he prompted softly. 

She could read his mood well enough, and though he could see her pouting, she complied without complaint.

“He promised us comrades,” she told the floor.

“ _Comrades_?” the scepticism in the old man’s question was hurtfully clear. The gasps of surprised – and not few disbelieving snorts – around them brushed his hair.

“Shut up!” Lilynette yelled, glaring hard at everyone around her. “Shut up, all of you! You don’t… you _can’t_ even understand what it was like!”

Biting her lip, she straightened, staring up at the judge, sitting all the way up above. “We used to be one. But we… we were so strong that everyone who came near us _died_. All of them… every single one… they dissolved the _moment_ they tried to get near us.” Her voice was starting to shake, thickening with tears.

The room was silent.

“There were only the mountains of corpses. They were so tall, taller than we were… they were all that we could see. And we were alone… we were so so _alone_ …”

She gulped for breath.

“We had each other, but it… it wasn’t the same. Starrk is me and I am Starrk. It’s not enough. It’s not _enough_ , and we wanted… we just wanted…”

“Lilynette,” Starrk interrupted. She looked up to him, single pink eye gleaming wetly, and he placed a hand on top of her mask fragment. “It’s alright.”

Sighing under his breath, he turned his attention to the Captain-Commander. It had been unfair and selfish of him to force Lilynette to answer when her wounds scored as deeply as his. Starrk wasn’t a coward.

“Aizen was the first person who could approach us without dying,” he said quietly. “He came to us and offered us comrades. He told me that there were people who were strong enough to withstand being around us.” Aizen had also offered to make him weaker, but Starrk didn’t say that; he didn’t want the Shinigami to be more wary and afraid of him than they already was.

And it wasn’t lying by keeping back some of the truth, was it?

“We were one Hollow, and we split apart into two just so we wouldn’t be alone anymore,” he continued, staring at the wall beyond the old man’s shoulder. “He offered us our dearest wish.”

“Did he fulfil his offer?”

Starrk laughed, sharp and bitter. “I cannot answer that question, and neither can Lilynette,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You have to ask them,” he jerked his head towards the other Arrancar in the room, “if they have ever considered us as comrades.”

“Nope,” Grimmjow’s voice rang out clearly. “And you’re a stupid bastard for even wanting something that dumb.”

He heard Neliel’s fist connecting straight with Grimmjow’s face; heard his shouted “Ow!” Starrk closed his eyes.

“No,” he said quietly. “He didn’t.”

The old man folded his arms upon the pedestal, peering at the two of them with sharp, beady eyes from beneath heavy lids. Slowly, he cocked his head.

“Given your efforts during the battle, I shall ask you this which I have not asked of the others,” he said slowly. “What crimes has he committed against the two of you?”

Starrk blinked. He wanted to laugh, but swallowed it down immediately by glancing at Lilynette. She sighed heavily, and he turned his attention back to the old man.

“None,” he said simply. “He only lied.”

Lies could hurt; lies could break. But they were not crimes.

“You do not consider him trying to kill you to be a crime?”

“Soutaichou-san,” Starrk said slowly. “If I attempt to label trying to kill your opponent a crime, then I will be consigning Harribel, Grimmjow, Lilynette and myself to that bench,” he nodded towards the direction of Aizen, deliberately not looking at his face. “After all, all of us fought against the Shinigami.”

He shook his head. “I am not such a fool.”

Behind him, he heard Kyouraku stifle a snicker. 

The old man’s eyes had opened just a fraction more when Starrk spoke, but they fell once more again before he nodded. “Very well,” he said. “What of Ichimaru Gin?”

“Huh?” It was Lilynette who spoke this time. Starrk was only blinking slightly stupidly, surely belying his previous words. He was so focused on Aizen and he had nearly forgotten that Ichimaru was on trial as well.

“Did Ichimaru Gin commit any crimes against the two of you?” the old man elaborated, sounding impatient.

“Uh,” Starrk said intelligently.

Lilynette snorted. “Nah,” she shook her head. “I think we’re way too boring for him to do try anything.”

“Did you witness Ichimaru Gin committing any crimes during your time in Las Noches?” the old man pressed.

Starrk’s other half stuck a finger inside her ear, digging at it. “I don’t think even you Shinigami would consider being really annoying a crime,” she shrugged. “Even if you do, he was annoying at people like Ulquiorra and Yammy, which means he’s kind of doing the rest of us a favour, because those two are assholes.”

“Ulquiorra’s not that bad,” Starrk commented mildly.

“He is an _asshole_ ,” she asserted firmly. “He goes around saying ‘trash, trash, trash’ like it’s the only word in his vocabulary.”

“He never called _me_ trash,” he corrected her.

She kicked him on the shin. “That’s because you’re ranked above him and he has this weird fixation with rank. Which makes him even more of an asshole because he calls _me_ trash all the time.”

“Ow,” he muttered. Shaking his head, he tried again. “Seriously, Lilynette, he’s not that bad. Just kind of… stiff.”

She gave him an unimpressed look. “You have no standards.”

“I’m not denying that Yammy is an asshole,” he pointed out, because it needed to be said. “I _have_ standards.”

“Your standards are crap.”

There was laughter. Starrk’s eyes widened, breaking away from his argument with Lilynette to look around them. Grimmjow had his head thrown back, practically cackling, while Neliel looked confused next to him – Ulquiorra and Yammy must be after her time, then. Harribel, however, was laughing into the high collar of her tunic – her shoulders were shaking. And so was Kyouraku’s, though he was trying to hide his mirth beneath his straw hat. Ukitake’s lips were twitching.

The other Shinigami looked absolutely poleaxed.

“Enough!” the cane slammed down again, and Starrk winced as the smell of fire assaulted his nose. The sound of laughter died instantly.

“Are you two quite finished?” he glared at them.

Lilynette opened her mouth, probably to say something inappropriate. Starrk grabbed her, shoving his hand over her mouth before he bowed.

“My apologies for the interruption, soutaichou-san,” he said hurriedly.

The old man stared at the two of them for a long, silent moment. Lilynette was struggling in his arms, but eventually subsided so Starrk could let her go. The moment she was standing straight again, the Captain-Commander continued.

“I have your word that Ichimaru Gin had committed no crimes upon the two of you, and you have witnessed none being committed?”

Starrk shook his head. “No, sir,” he said quietly.

“Hm.”

Another long moment passed. Lilynette started to fidget, and Starrk was reaching out to her to calm her down when the old man spoke again.

“What shall be Aizen Sousuke’s rightful punishment, in your view?”

Lilynette went completely still. Starrk’s hand twitched, and he straightened. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his head and turned right towards Aizen.

Although he had expected this – he guessed that was the question Grimmjow was answering during the brief moment Starrk was paying attention to his testimony – he couldn’t help the way his pulse was suddenly pounding in his ears. Especially not when those brown eyes were fixed on him, with that terribly familiar knowing smile on his lips.

“Imprisonment,” he said softly. “He should be imprisoned for however long he might live, cut off of contact with anyone else, with only the voices in his head as company.”

He paused for a moment, taking in the way Aizen’s eyes were silently narrowing, before he continued.

“My suggestion is not based on revenge, soutaichou-san,” he said, “but on understanding Aizen’s character.”

“Explain.”

Starrk nodded, gaze still fixed on Aizen’s as he continued, “I have seen the loneliness in his eyes, and I know it is not a lie.” He knew it too well to not be able to recognise the insincerity. “But he possesses arrogance enough to make-believe himself to be a god, enough arrogance to see all those around him to be clay. His greatest desire, and what gives him most satisfaction, is to see people around him behave according to what he thinks they should. He glories in the hatred in your eyes, for then you acknowledge his power over you. You acknowledge his existence.”

He licked his lips nervously, hearing the sudden spate of whispers that was filling the courtroom. Starrk knew it was true; knew now with a clarity that he was absolute certain about even though he could not know where it came from.

His mind had always put the pieces together far faster than he could find the words to articulate; faster than he had ever wanted it to.

“If you try to kill him, then it will be his victory, in his eyes. But if you imprison him and forget about him… it means he no longer exists. The loneliness he feels will consume him from the inside, and he will be destroyed entirely.”

“ _Starrk_.”

The low growl made a mockery of Aizen’s usually smooth voice. The calm, smug look in Aizen’s eyes that Starrk had gotten so used was destroyed, replaced by hatred and rage.

Making sure that his eyes stayed open, Starrk smiled, bitter and cold.

“The lesson I learned best from you is about yourself.”

He did not lie: Starrk understood Aizen perfectly. It did not mean that he was healed; it simply meant that he knew how to turn away.

And he did so now, facing the judge once more.

The old man was looking at him with dark, contemplative eyes. After a moment, he nodded sharply.

“We will take your suggestion into consideration,” he intoned. His gaze rested on Starrk and Lilynette both for a long moment. 

“You may return to your seats.”

Starrk bowed once more, taking Lilynette’s hand into this as they walked back. He stared straight ahead, trying to ignore but all too aware of the many pairs of eyes that were fixed upon him. At least they weren’t looking at Lilynette, though that was a cold comfort.

Kyouraku leaned in once Starrk had sat down, and those grey eyes, though thoughtful, were bright with mirth.

“You are a terrifying man, Starrk-san,” Kyouraku said lightly, smiling out from the corner of his mouth. “I am very glad that I don’t have to fight against you anymore.”

Starrk’s eyes slid towards him, and he cocked his head. “Like recognises like, taichou-san,” he murmured under his breath.

After all, it was only this morning that Kyouraku had practically ripped his entire being apart with his eyes and words alone.

The other man’s eyes widened slightly before he chuckled under his breath. “Ah, then I suppose that we match each other well, then?”

Blinking, Starrk looked at him. He opened his mouth, wanting to know what Kyouraku meant, but he didn’t have a chance. The male Visored with the blond hair and wide grin was walking towards the Captain-Commander.

So he left the questions for another time, simply leaning back slightly to listen instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first story Aizen told Starrk – about the boy, his friend, the three men, and the demon – is, of course, a bastardised version of Gin’s first meeting with Aizen. The second story, about the gods of provinces, is a bastardisation of Japanese Shinto practices. 
> 
> Seven chapters and way too many words, but I hope that my characterisation of Aizen, and the reason behind his relationship with Starrk, actually makes sense now. Thank you for staying with me all this while.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. There is a lot happening here. I hope the pacing works.


	8. Machinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proposals are put forth by both sides for their own purposes. Lilynette finds a new friend while Zaraki hunts for a fight.

“Court is now adjourned,” the old man slammed his cane down onto the ground. “With the exception of the current Captains, you are all dismissed. Kyouraku, Ukitake, the two of you bring the traitor Aizen back to his cell.”

Starrk closed his eyes, sagging a little bit more into his seat even as all those around him began to stand and leave. The Visoreds’ and Kurosaki’s testimonies had taken a very long time, though none of the information had been particularly surprising. So the Visoreds were made into what they were due to Aizen’s experiments… Starrk had really expected nothing less. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only one who wasn’t made into a hybrid due to Aizen’s machinations. Perhaps Neliel…? But he dismissed the thought eventually: jpossible threads of similarity didn’t assure that a connection could be made. To wish for it was simply to set himself up for disappointment and hurt. 

That was another lesson he had learned well. 

“Hey, Aizen!” Grimmjow’s voice rang out suddenly in the air. Starrk blinked, turning his attention to the man.

Grimmjow was grinning, his teeth sharp in the fading light coming through the windows. “How does it feel to be tossed away like trash by the very tools you thought you can used, eh?” he taunted, lifting a hand to give Aizen a middle-finger salute.

Before anyone could reply, Grimmjow laughed harshly before he swept out of the room, with Neliel in her child form napping in his arms. She had turned back sometime during the flood of testimonials, and fallen asleep to Kurosaki’s voice. Starrk watched Grimmjow’s back, and turned his eyes away when he saw Harribel approach him.

He knew what she was going to offer to the former Sexta. And it took some effort before he could stamp down the instinctive resentment he felt at the three of them standing together like that.

Did Grimmjow even understand what it was he had? What he could have if he just reached out a hand?

“You’re making yourself sad again,” Lilynette observed. “Stop that!”

She crawled back to his lap, her knees between his thighs as she grabbed his face and smacked her mask fragment right over his nose. 

“Ow!” Starrk yelped. “What do you keep hitting me?”

“Because you keep being dumb,” she rolled her eyes. Jumping down, she grabbed his stone-covered wrist, tugging. “Come on, let’s go already. I’m sick of this place.”

Starrk looked at her for a moment before he nodded. But as he made to stand, a hand fell onto his shoulder. He turned around to meet Kyouraku’s smiling face.

“Starrk-san, are you alright?”

Blinking, Starrk cocked his head. “Why won’t I be?” 

“You were… drifting away during the proceeding,” Kyouraku said. “I was worried.”

Starrk’s eyes widened for a brief moment before he ruthlessly quashed the rising hope inside him. Was that true? Or were they were just another form of manipulation for some purpose he didn’t yet understand? Starrk couldn’t tell; the troubled darkness in Kyouraku’s eyes didn’t seem false, but he didn’t know that particular emotion well to know for sure.

He couldn’t trust this man.

Slowly, he shook his head. “Don’t you have duties to tend to?” he asked wryly instead.

Kyouraku shrugged. “Aizen can wait a little longer,” he said carelessly, waving a hand. “I simply wanted to know if you’re alright, Starrk-san.”

Was the Captain afraid that Starrk would go on some sort of rampage the moment he left? Did he fear for the lives of the near-powerless Shinigami who might end up meeting Starrk by accident?

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m fine,” he murmured. “Lilynette and I will just head back to your Division.”

Kyouraku peered into his eyes for a long moment. “Are you certain?” he asked.

“Just let us go already!” Lilynette demanded, huffing impatiently. “Jeez, you’re really persistent.”

Starrk placed a hand on her shoulder.

“If you’re worried about where we are going, you can follow us with your senses to make sure that we head back to your Division directly,” he offered. He paused before shrugging. “Though, I’m sure you’re already planning to do so.”

The smile on Kyouraku’s face faltered, becoming sorrowful at the edges. “That’s not what I was worried about, Starrk-san.” His hand left Starrk’s shoulder. The chill set in almost immediately. 

“But if you are sure that you are fine…”

“I’m fine,” Starrk said firmly. “Both of us are.”

Kyouraku looked at him for another moment more before he nodded, stepping away.

“Then I’ll leave you be.”

Lilynette pulled at him again, and Starrk followed her lead as they headed towards the wide double doors of the courtroom. But he stopped right at the doorway, nearly crashing into her, as he turned around and sought Kyouraku’s eyes again.

“I’ll see you later, then?” he asked, trying his best to keep the insecurity from his voice. He couldn’t help thinking that Kyouraku might not want to have anything to do with him anymore after all that he had revealed during the trial.

But Kyouraku merely waved at them.

“Definitely,” he said, smile widening. “The very moment this meeting ends.”

“I’ll be counting!” Lilynette said by his side. Starrk glanced down at her, seeing his own insecurity mirrored in her eyes, barely hidden by false belligerence. “Don’t try to fool us.”

Starrk opened his mouth. Oddly enough, he wanted to say that he would be waiting as well, but he swallowed back the words and nodded instead.

“Let’s go, Lilynette.”

***

Watching the scene, Grimmjow’s nose twitched. He could practically _smell_ the interest the Shinigami had in Starrk from here, and it was almost as disgusting as the stench from Aizen’s very presence.

He turned around, making to leave.

“Grimmjow, wait.”

Yanking his arm out of Harribel’s grip, he made sure that he wasn’t jarring the sleeping Nel as he turned and narrowed his eyes.

“What the hell do you want?”

Harribel wasn’t looking at him, but at some Shinigami Vice-Captain who was returning her Tiburon. Grimmjow grunted as he snatched Pantera back, sliding it back into his hakama’s sash without needing to look.

“I need to talk to you,” she finally said.

“Here?” Grimmjow raised an eyebrow. His tone perfectly conveyed his opinion of Harribel’s stupidity.

“No. In Hueco Mundo.”

“I’m not going back to Las Noches.” He knew that was where Harribel had set up her den with her fraccion.

“In neutral territory, then,” she offered.

“I’ll pick the place,” Grimmjow challenged.

She merely nodded, which annoyed him even further. He really despised just how _quiet_ she was; sometimes he wondered if she had a personality under all that bone.

Grunting under his breath, he secured Nel even more firmly in his arm before he ripped open a Garganta. The passageway would lead far from his own den, but his injuries had nearly healed – he would be fully healed if he had taken up that Shinigami Captain’s offer, but he wasn’t going to owe the bastards more than he already did – and _sonido_ would get him back quickly enough.

When the three of them stepped back onto the grey-toned world of Hueco Mundo, Grimmjow strode towards one of the rocks. He sat down, legs splayed open. Nel murmured in her sleep, and he placed a gentle hand on top of her mask fragment to soothe her.

“You’re good to her,” Harribel said after she took a look around the surroundings.

Grimmjow growled under his breath. “She’s mine,” he declared, sending out a hard pulse of reiatsu to back up the claim. “Don’t think that I don’t know that you wanted her for yourself.”

Harribel’s eyes crinkled upwards slightly – the only hint of her smile – before she shook her head. “She has made a choice,” she shrugged. “And I respect it.”

His eyes narrowed even further. “Then what do you want to talk to me about?”

They were both Alphas, and conversations between Alphas rarely happened unless they were belonged in the same pack or when they were fighting over the same Beta. They weren’t part of a pack – being part of the Espada didn’t count, because Aizen had never been a Pack Alpha, no matter how strong he was – so if Harribel wasn’t trying to contest his claim over Neliel, then what the hell was she here for.

“I want to offer you an alliance,” Harribel said.

Grimmjow stared. “ _What_?”

“You have your own pack, I have mine,” she explained in the same calm, almost flat tone. “But if you and yours are threatened, me and mine will come to your aid. And the same vice versa.”

“Have you been spending too much time with the Shinigami?” 

“It’s precisely because of the Shinigami,” Harribel’s eyes narrowed. “They don’t trust us. I don’t trust them either. We don’t know when they would come and attack us again. And Aizen has shown how vulnerable single packs are against a stronger threat. If the Captains all come after us, we’ll lose.”

Grimmjow’s eye twitched, but she didn’t give him a chance to interrupt.

“There are only six of us left now. If we ally together, there will be a lesser chance we are overpowered, whether by the Shinigami or anyone else in Hueco Mundo.”

Six? If he included Harribel’s fraccion, then…

“What about the pathetic bastard and his annoying tagalong?”

Harribel raised an eyebrow at him, most probably due to the names he used. “I don’t think they’ll come back to Hueco Mundo,” she shook her head. “And even if they do…”

Grimmjow understood her point instantly. Only Alphas could form packs, and if Starrk wasn’t a Beta, then Grimmjow would eat his own left arm. The rawness and strength of his power practically screamed it. If the two of them came back to Hueco Mundo, they would have to wait for an Alpha to invite them to the pack or they would be alone again. And Grimmjow had no interest in having the two of them.

“You’re not going to invite them?” he raised an eyebrow.

Harribel chuckled, the sound muffled by the high collar of her shirt. “I have no interest in men,” she said dryly. “And Lilynette won’t leave Starrk.”

There was no way that Starrk and Lilynette would come back then, which meant that this issue was one between Harribel and Grimmjow alone. But there was clearly something wrong about Harribel’s idea.

“It’ll be stupid to leave them out,” he pointed out. “If you’re afraid of the Shinigami turning on us, then they’ll be the first the figure out.” If only due to the fact that they were right _there_ in Seireitei while he and Harribel were in Hueco Mundo. “Why don’t you ask him?”

The other Alpha gave him a considering look. Grimmjow rolled his eyes.

“There’s no way that he’ll disagree. He’ll probably just fall over agreeing because he thinks you see him as a comrade or something.”

Harribel snorted into her shirt, and Grimmjow couldn’t help but agree with that assessment. Comrades were a thing only for Shinigami and humans; Hollows had no such things. There were mates who walked beside you, packs with whom you run beside, and both were temporary and formed for the sake of combined strength for survival or even the having of children. For Starrk to want to have comrades for the sake of it just proved just fucking weird he was.

As if there wasn’t enough proof already.

“You make for a good case,” Harribel acknowledged with a nod. “But I’ll have to discuss it with Apacci and the others first.”

Grimmjow snorted. “Yeah, like I don’t have to ask Neliel about this,” he said. “It won’t be just me who’ll be fighting if we join this alliance of yours.”

Harribel cocked her head. “You’re surprising me at every turn,” she murmured. 

“I’m not fucking _stupid_ ,” he sniped back. “And if you keep thinking so then this whole thing will just go down the drain.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she said. “I just never thought that you would be a good Alpha.”

“I’m not _Nnoitra_. And neither am I weird like you are.” 

Harribel’s Betas were all weaker than she was – weak enough to be her fraccion. Usually, it was the other way around. But then again, he supposed that she had no other choice. Betas were rare, and females even rarer. She probably just took whatever she could. Which really did explained her shitty taste in Betas.

She waved a hand. “How long would you need to decide?” Impatience was all over her words. Grimmjow knew what her rush was; none of them knew how long the Shinigami’s charitability would last, especially now that the reason to keep them alive – the trial – was already over.

“You’re at Las Noches, right?” She nodded. “I’ll find you once I figure it out.”

He meant what he said: he _would_ try figure this out. As much as he disliked the thought, she had a point: Grimmjow had been made to serve one asshole already, and he had no wish to serve another, much less get killed because of some bastards’ idea of righteousness.

“Alright,” Harribel said. Then she was gone.

Grimmjow stood up, looking around him. This was a familiar place: he and his pack, when the useless idiots had still been alive, had used this place as a landmark for this area of Hueco Mundo. The sands and rocks and bare trees were the same as everywhere else, but there were also the ridiculously high mountains of bones. 

There were three here, and they weren’t the only ones. There were mountains like these dotted all around this area of Hueco Mundo.

That very first time Starrk had walked into Las Noches, Grimmjow had known precisely just what he was. And though Starrk’s power would be attractive to any Alpha, Grimmjow wasn’t stupid.

Neliel might be able to kick his ass once in a while, but she wouldn’t end up killing him by just _thinking_ about it like Starrk could.

***

Shunsui swallowed back a sigh, pulling the straw hat down over his eyes. 

The sun outside had set long ago, casting long shadows into the meeting room beside the courtroom where all the Captains were still arguing regarding the testimonials that they had heard for the day. Although Shunsui wasn’t surprised – he knew that a group like this would take almost half of forever to make a decision, especially since all of them were used to their word being absolute law in their own Divisions – he wished he could pull a Zaraki and Kurotsuchi and just abstain from voting entirely by storming out the very moment the meeting had begun.

Especially when the arguments turned almost immediately from Aizen and Ichimaru’s punishments to whether or not the word of the Visored and Arrancar – particularly the latter – could at all be trusted. 

He sighed under his breath. Soi Fon and Komamura were still arguing heatedly: the former was under the impression that everything that had been said needed to be thoroughly investigated before it could be trusted, while the latter insisted upon trusting their word so that they would not be alienated. Although he could see that both sides of the argument had truth in it, he wished they would stop repeating themselves.

“Shunsui,” Yama-jii said, his voice cutting through the rising voices like a knife.

Opening his eyes fully, Shunsui tipped back his hat, meeting the sharp eyes of his old teacher.

“Can the Arrancars’ word be trusted?” 

Shunsui sat up, biting back a _finally_. Yama-jii sure liked to take his time.

“In all honesty, Yama-jii,” he drawled, sitting up. “I think we’re just wasting our time with all this arguing.”

Before anyone could interrupt him, or even take issue with what he just said, Shunsui continued, “There is no way we can investigate the truth of anything they might say. They are the only ones close enough to Aizen left alive. The only other who might be able to give a testimony is Ichimaru, and you will have the same questions about his honesty as well.”

Across from him, Komamura winced, no doubt thinking of Tousen’s death. Though Shunsui did feel sympathy for the other Captain’s grief, he honestly had no idea how Tousen’s survival would have helped with their current situation.

Pushing away those thoughts, he shrugged. “I say that we trust them,” he said, carefully avoiding Ukitake’s steady and piercing gaze. “None of them have lied to us so far.” 

Soi Fon narrowed her eyes. “And you are, of course, absolutely sure about that,” she stated dryly.

He smiled pleasantly in reply. “A thousand years of experience made for a pretty good lie detector,” he told. Of course, the very same millennia also meant that it was incredibly easy for _him_ to lie, but he hoped that only Yama-jii and Ukitake realised that.

Besides, he wasn’t lying. Not this time. Not about this.

“Even if we take their word as truth…” Yama-jii said, interrupting Soi Fon before she could speak. “How much can we trust them to not be threats?”

“Haven’t we already gone through this before?” Shunsui raised an eyebrow. He definitely remembered that very long meeting regarding whether to let the hybrids go free, to imprison them, or execute them.

Yama-jii frowned at him. “We were unaware of Jaegarjaquez and Tu Oderschwanck’s existence at the time,” he said severely. “Not to mention Coyote Starrk’s… abilities. He is far more dangerous than we first thought.”

Shunsui winced. He should have known that his old teacher definitely wouldn’t have allowed the sheer power implied by story of the mountains of Hollows to pass without comment. Though… there was something strange, now that he was thinking about it: when he fought Starrk, the raw power he felt from the other man didn’t seem to be able to destroy Adjuchas by complete accident. Not even in their merged form had they felt _that_ powerful.

Had Starrk been subconsciously holding back? Or was that part of what Aizen had done to him? If so… then why hadn’t Starrk mentioned it during his testimony? 

His hands were starting to twitch. He hid them in his lap so he wouldn’t start fidgeting. Only long years of experience allowed him to keep his conflicting thoughts from showing in his eyes.

“Genryuusai-sensei,” Ukitake spoke up, leaning across the table to catch the Captain-Commander’s eyes. “I have a proposition to make.”

Yama-jii waved an imperious hand. “Say it, Jyuushirou.”

“We should not think of the Arrancar as potential threats,” Ukitake began cautiously. “But as potential assets.”

There it was: Ukitake’s brilliant mind, perfectly capable of turning everything, including his innate compassion and perception, into military strategies. Kyouraku hid his grin beneath his hat, watching as Yama-jii’s eyes slowly opened a fraction wider.

“What do you mean?”

“From what they have said, Jaegarjaquez craves sanctuary, Tu Oderschwanck to rise above her innate instincts, Harribel safety for herself and her fraccion, and Starrk companionship.”

“I propose that we give them that,” he continued, folding his hands in front of him as he smiled. “We give them what they desire, and, in the process, we gain their loyalty. Not only does this reduce the chance of their striking back against us, we will be able to call upon their power in any future conflict we might have.”

“Ukitake,” Kuchiki murmured, his voice soft but clear. “How are you so sure that giving them what they want will ensure their loyalty?”

“Because they used to follow Aizen but now hold no loyalty towards him, Byakuya,” Ukitake replied easily. “Each of them, in their own words, followed Aizen because he promised to give them what they desire. And each of them turned from him when they realised that he betrayed them.”

His smile widened. “In that way, they are little different from us, aren’t they?”

“You believe that these… _Hollows_ are similar in any way to the Shinigami?” Kuchiki asked, his scepticism perfectly expressed in one arched eyebrow.

“They carry swords,” Ukitake pointed out. “They speak. They have desires. I have witnessed for myself Starrk’s capacity for curiosity.”

Kuchiki still looked doubtful, and so did some of the other Captains. Shunsui decided that it was time for him to stop watching the show and start participating in it.

“They know what it means to feel hurt,” he stated, tipping his hat up and grinning at his colleagues. “I was the only one close enough to Starrk and Harribel to see the looks on their faces when Aizen betrayed them, and it is clear enough that they understand what it means to be betrayed.”

“You weren’t the only one, Kyouraku,” Hitsugaya interjected suddenly. He didn’t even flinch when all eyes in the room turned to him. “I was close enough to Harribel to look in her eyes.”

He fell silent, dragging a hand through his hair.

Shunsui smiled. “Does she remind you of someone important?” he asked, careful to keep his tone light.

Slowly, Hitsugaya nodded. “Aah.”

Retsu-senpai had been silent during the entire discussion, watching the rest of them through unreadable eyes. Now she spoke up: “You are suggesting quite a radical thing, Ukitake-taichou, Kyouraki-taichou,” she mused. “You suggest that we look upon Hollows as more than just mere beasts, but creatures capable of humanity.”

There wasn’t a single shred of incredulity in those dark eyes; there was only expectation. And Shunsui knew Retsu-senpai well enough to understand precisely what she was driving at.

“I’m not suggesting, senpai,” he laughed. “I’m stating it.”

“You are absolutely certain?” she asked in the same gentle voice.

Exchanging a glance with Ukitake, Shunsui’s smile widened as both of them turned towards Yama-jii at once.

“Enough to stake my Captaincy upon it,” Ukitake declared.

“And mine too,” Shunsui added.

Yama-jii’s eyes widened, and the table broke into an uproar. Shunsui couldn’t help it; he laughed, loud and loud, and the sound silenced everyone as they stared at him, incomprehension thick in the air.

Ukitake shook his head, having the grace to hide his own laughter behind his hand. “You young ones are really shaming yourself,” he chuckled. “If the two of us old fogies are capable of being open-minded, then why can’t you do the same?”

“Besides,” Shunsui continued, stifling his amusement with some effort, “it’s not as if giving a chance to a former enemy is without precedent. Hasn’t our dealings with the Kurosaki boy proven just how well it might work?”

“That was different,” Kuchiki countered immediately, a frown creasing his brows. “Kurosaki Ichigo was never really our enemy; we were only fooled into thinking so by Aizen’s machinations.”

“Is it truly different?” Shunsui raised an eyebrow at the other Captain. “These Arrancar would not have been our enemies if not for Aizen’s efforts.”

“Kurosaki is a human,” Kuchiki pointed out. “They are Hollows.”

Sliding his eyes to Ukitake once more, Shunsui found the confusion he felt at Kuchiki’s insistence mirrored in those familiar brown eyes. He leaned back, letting Ukitake field that particular comment: his friend knew Kuchiki far better than he himself did.

“We had never imagined that a mere human could have the power that Ichigo holds,” Ukitake said gently. “Likewise, we had never thought Hollows to be capable of gaining sentience and humanity.”

His eyes scanned the table, hardening slightly. “It’s long past time that we stop perpetuating our own ignorance out of sheer stubbornness, isn’t it?”

“This whole war against Aizen should have taught us to not take what we think we know and understand at face value, if nothing else,” Shunsui drawled, because he knew Ukitake was far too nice to ever put things that bluntly.

Soi Fon leaned forward, clearly about to protest. Her mulish expression was almost identical to Kuchiki’s, while Komamura looked thoughtful and Hitsugaya uncomfortable.

Then Yama-jii knocked his cane against the floor. “Enough,” he rumbled, and all of his Captains turned to him instantly as one.

“I have heard your arguments,” Yama-jii continued once he was sure that he had their full attention. His heavy gaze turned towards Shunsui and Ukitake, looking at them as if they were no more than schoolboys.

“We will follow your suggestion, Shunsui, Jyuushirou,” he said, eyes immediately darting towards Soi Fon when she seemed to want to protest. “But if this gamble of yours fails… both of you _will_ pay for it with your current positions.”

Shunsui chuckled. He knew Yama-jii well enough to know that the threat was actually a promise, but was undeterred nonetheless.

“Have you known us to be wrong, Yama-jii?” he asked, grinning widely. “When Ukitake and I agree on the same issue, we are usually right.”

He deliberately didn’t mention the whole issue with Rukia-chan’s execution. Yama-jii could only be pushed so far.

“Do not be impudent,” Yama-jii said, his lips thinning into a line. “Only time will tell if the two of you are right.”

“Three,” Ukitake corrected mildly. “Retsu-senpai agrees with us as well.”

As usual, Retsu-senpai doesn’t even seem to feel the weight of the eyes that were suddenly turned towards her. “I do agree with Kyouraku-taichou and Ukitake-taichou,” she said in her smooth, gentle voice, hands folded demurely in her lap.

“If there are Shinigami who are monstrous,” her gaze fixed pointedly upon one specific empty seat: Kurotsuchi’s, “then why can’t there be Hollows who are human?”

The room winced nearly as one at the incisiveness of her observation, though Shunsui couldn’t help wondering if Retsu-senpai was talking about herself as well.

“Then it is decided,” Yama-jii intoned, inclining his head to Retsu-senpai to concede her point. “Shunsui, Jyuushirou – the two of you will lead the efforts to turn the Arrancar into assets for the Gotei Thirteen.”

What are momentous task. But one that Shunsui was pretty sure could be accomplished if they stepped carefully enough. He had already begun to make some headway with Starrk, though it was for his own purposes.

… At least, he hoped that he _was_ making some sort of headway. He found it nearly impossible to read the man.

“Now,” Yama-jii said, pulling Shunsui’s attention away from his own thoughts back to the meeting.

“Let us discuss the issue of Aizen and Ichimaru’s punishments.”

***

Starrk was rather sure that they were supposed to be back at the Eighth Division right now. In fact, he was absolutely certain of it.

But somehow, Lilynette had met the pink-haired girl – _Yachiru_ , he reminded himself – and was dragged away. And, really, what could Starrk do but follow her, especially when he saw that hulking man with the torn haori?

Though he had seen the man and the girl before, he knew nothing about them – all he had was a single glance before he stole Inoue Orihime away according to Aizen’s orders. He wondered if the Captain would blame him for that. He didn’t seem the type, but Starrk didn’t know him at all.

Pushing away those thoughts, he watched Lilynette with her new friend. His other half was caught up in some sort of game in which they were supposed to pile leaves together before jumping on them, scattering the leaves before doing it all over again. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he realised that Lilynette was enjoying herself despite her frequent and loud complaints. Briefly, he wondered why the trees were shedding leaves – he had seen one fall from a branch. It just seemed to create a mess without any reason for it.

“Oy.”

The nearly-unnaturally tall man finally spoke. Starrk slanted his gaze towards him; he had been waiting.

“You’re the Primera, right?”

Starrk shrugged, using the gesture to hide his instinctive discomfort at the title. “I used to be,” he admitted. Then, he asked cautiously, “What’s your name?”

“Zaraki Kenpachi,” came the grunted reply. “Hey, if you’re number one, then you’re stronger than number five, right?”

“Number five?” Starrk blinked, cocking his head to the side. He knew who Zaraki was talking about; he was asking in a half-hearted effort to prevent what he knew was coming.

“Guy with long hair, and a white eyepatch here,” Zaraki gestured towards his left eye. “Tall, really skinny, has six arms once he released his sword.”

“You mean Nnoitra.”

So it was this man who killed the Quinto, then, instead of Kurosaki. Somehow, Starrk wasn’t very surprised – he felt strong enough to give Nnoitra exactly what he wanted and needed in the end.

“Yeah,” Zaraki nodded jerkily. “He gave me a hell of a fight.”

Starrk hesitated for a moment, turning back to watch Lilynette and Yachiru. The older girl had some leaves stuck to her yukata, not to mention mud and grass stains. But she was rolling in the leaves even more, wrestling with the other girl with a snarl on her face even as her single eye glittered with laughter. 

“I guess I’m stronger than him,” he admitted finally, because it seemed that Zaraki wasn’t going to say anything else until his question was answered.

There was suddenly a sword right in his face, tip nearly bisecting his nose. Starrk didn’t move, raising an eyebrow as he looked down the length of the metal to meet Zaraki’s eye.

“Fight me then,” the Captain challenging, his grin wide and mad. “We don’t have to just watch them. We can have our own play.”

“I can’t.”

“What?” Zaraki’s eye narrowed. “Why not?”

Starrk held up his hands. “These aren’t decorative,” he said simply. Not for the first time, he was thankful for the restraints the Shinigami had insisted that he wore. “They cut off more than three-quarters of my power. I won’t give you a better fight than the one you had Nnoitra with them on.”

“Keh,” the Captain said. He didn’t lower his sword, instead pressing it even closer to Starrk’s throat. “So take them off.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Starrk sighed. “I can’t,” he repeated, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair. He was uncomfortably aware of the cold steel that was nearly close enough to the skin to cut.

“Hey!” Lilynette had noticed the situation. “What the hell are you doing, Shinigami?!”

“Stay there, Lilynette,” Starrk said immediately. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched as Lilynette stopped mid-lunge at the commanding tone in his voice – Starrk _very_ rarely ordered her to do anything. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Yachiru, distract your friend,” Zaraki said, his gaze fixed upon the pink-haired girl. “Me and Primera here are having a conversation.”

Lilynette’s gaze remained on his, heavy with her clear worry, and Starrk didn’t say a word.

“Why can’t you take them off?” Zaraki demanded once Starrk’s attention was on him again.

He considered telling him that he was considered to be too dangerous by the Shinigami to go around without them on, but he suspected that would just excite him. So he shrugged instead.

“Only taichou-san and the the white-haired taichou-san can take them off,” he said instead. “And both of them together.”

“Who the hell are you talking about?”

“Kyouraku and Ukitake.”

A frown appeared between Zaraki’s brows, and he slowly lowered his sword, hand dropping to his side. “Keh,” he said again. “Those two, huh?”

There was a sudden look of apprehension in Zaraki’s eye that Starrk hadn’t even known until now that he was capable of. He blinked, cocking his head to the side, wondering just what those two had done – if they _had_ done anything – to make a man like Zaraki hesitate. He had thought that Zaraki would immediately disappear back to the First Division to grab them; he was planning to make his escape then.

But it seemed that it wasn’t necessary. 

Suddenly, he was very aware that he might just be lucky that those two had chosen to be his and Liliynette’s sponsors. Was that why none of the Shinigami had tried to attack the two of them, especially Lilynette? Starrk knew that Kyouraku was stronger than the short, white-haired Captain, but was he stronger than Zaraki here? Strong enough to make the man falter?

He should find some answers as soon as it was possible. Because he now suspected that he might just owe those two Captains more than he thought he already did.

Zaraki was leaning against one of the nearly-bare trees, crossing his arms and scowling. Starrk looked at him for a long moment before dragging a hand through his hair.

“I don’t think I can give you the kind of fight you are looking for, taichou-san,” he said quietly. “But I think I know someone who might be able to.”

“Who?” Zaraki turned towards him immediately, a bright, unholy gleam appearing in his eyes.

“His name is Grimmjow,” Starrk offered. 

“Which one of you is he? I ain’t good with names.”

“The one with the blue hair.”

Zaraki’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The one who was shouting insults at Aizen when he left.”

Starrk nodded.

“Which rank is he?”

“He was Sexta,” he said. When he saw the brief confusion in Zaraki’s eyes, he translated. “The sixth.”

“Hah,” Zaraki said, sounding thoughtful. “You think he’d give me a good fight even though I killed the one above him?”

Starrk shrugged slightly. “Aizen ranked us according to reiatsu levels,” he told the Shinigami. “I don’t think it says anything about actual fighting ability.”

Honestly, Starrk sometimes wondered if he could actually win a fight against Grimmjow, much less Ulquoirra and Harribel. He barely knew how to fight – all he knew came from the few months of training Aizen had put him through, and he had only learned reluctantly. Compared to those three, who had been fighting the entire time they were alive, Starrk was a complete amateur.

All he had for an advantage was raw power, but his defeat at the hands of Kyouraku showed just how little that truly mattered. He was rather sure even _Grimmjow_ could pound him into the ground without much effort if he tried. 

Briefly, he wondered if he should start training… no. His mind skittered away from the thought. He had no wish to learn how to fight better. And, more importantly, he had no wish to make the Shinigami even more wary of him than they already were.

Zaraki crossed his arms, brows furrowed with thought.

“Do you hate this Grimmjow guy?” he asked suddenly.

Starrk blinked. “Huh?”

“If I go to fight him, he might die,” Zaraki pointed out. “I don’t hold back against someone who is strong. Do you want him dead?”

Dragging a hand through his hair, Starrk sighed. “I don’t hate him.” In fact, he actually liked Grimmjow despite his tendency to let his damned mouth run off on him. “I know that he’ll appreciate having someone to fight, that’s all.”

Being surrounded by Shinigami and forced to not attack them no matter because Neliel’s health and memories were being held hostage… Starrk was surprised that Grimmjow hadn’t started lashing out already. If Zaraki went to him specifically looking for a fight, then Grimmjow already had a ready-made excuse to let loose.

Zaraki was starting to grin, his lips stretching to bare his teeth. “Someone who actually _likes_ fighting, huh?” he said slowly. “I can understand a guy like that.”

He turned towards the girls, raising his voice. “Oy, Yachiru! We’re going!”

The little pink-haired girl lifted her head from where she was half-buried underneath a pile of leaves. “You’re not going to fight Pri-chan, Ken-chan?”

Starrk twitched. ‘Pri-chan?’ Where the hell did _that_ come from?

“Nah,” Zaraki said, swinging his sword over his shoulder. “He’s got those restraints on. ‘Sides, he told me about someone better.”

“Oh, oh, who?” Yachiru bounded over to him, climbing his body like a monkey before perching on his shoulder.

“Some guy named Grimmjow,” Zaraki told her. “He likes fighting.”

“Oooh! Ken-chan’s favourite kind of guy!” Yachiru chirped. “Let’s go then!”

Zaraki nodded, making to run off. Starrk was turning away from him when the Captain spoke again.

“Oy, Primera! Where is this Grimmjow guy?”

Looking over his shoulder, Starrk waved a hand. “The last time I saw him, he was at the Fourth Division.”

“Fourth, eh?” Zaraki nodded decisively. “Let’s go then, Yachiru!”

Looking at their retreating backs, Starrk wondered if he should tell Zaraki that he was headed in completely opposite direction from where the Fourth Division was. Then he chuckled under his breath.

The Captains were having a meeting. If the two of them got themselves lost, then maybe the meeting wouldn’t be interrupted and Starrk would be able to hear about Aizen and Ichimaru’s punishment later instead.

Lilynette walked up to him. “They’re weird,” she complained.

Starrk looked at her, smile widening involuntarily when he took in the mussed and leaf-strewn hair, the dirt nearly covering her entire body, and the fact that she was, for some reason, chewing on a stem of grass.

“You’re a mess,” he told her, shoulders shaking with muffled laughter. “Did you have fun?”

She stepped closer to him, taking his hand in hers. Her eye was shining with something like hope.

“Yeah.”

Reaching out, he flicked a leaf off from where it was trapped between strands of her hair.

“Hey, Starrk?” Lilynette asked. “This place… it’s not that bad, right?”

Starrk turned away from her, looking towards the high gates a distance away. “I don’t know, Lilynette,” he said softly. “But maybe… we can find some friends here.”

Maybe they already had. He wanted badly to hope, but the empty thing in his chest didn’t know how to hold such a thing. Long ago, he had drained the insides and gave it to Aizen, and though he had tried his best to cut that particular bond during the trail, it didn’t mean his heart was full again.

All he had left was an aching emptiness, perfectly fitting for the hole in his chest.

“If we can find friends, then it’s already not that bad,” Lilynette pointed out, sounding a little irritated. She pulled at him. “Come on, I want to shower. I feel icky.”

“Okay,” he said, following her. “I can walk, you know.”

“Then walk faster. You’re being slow.”

He thought about telling her that he could move faster if she let go of his hand, but her fingers were gripped tight, and he didn’t want to let go either. 

“Hey, Starrk?” Lilynette broke the silence again after they had walked together for long moments. 

“Mm?”

“Do you know why the leaves drop from the trees?”

Glancing down at her, he shrugged. “I have no idea,” he said.

She nodded, falling silent once more. Starrk knew her far too well to push, so he simply waited.

“Do you think…” she started hesitantly once they were reaching the Eighth Division. “Do you think we can find out from books?”

He brushed over the top of her mask fragment with one hand. “I think we can,” he said softly.

“Good,” she nodded. “Because I really want to know.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

***

“Say, Starrk-san.”

Kyouraku was leaning against the door of the guest suite, holding a large brown jar between his fingers. He grinned, shaking it a little. Starrk could hear its contents swishing. 

He didn’t move from where he was lying on his stomach on the tatami, though he kept his eyes open.

“Mm?”

“Can the Arrancar eat or drink? You see, I have one of my prized jars of sake right here, and no one to share it with…”

“What about the white-haired taichou-san?” Starrk arched an eyebrow.

“Well, he’s all over at his own Division,” Kyouraku drawled. He toed off his waraji, leaving them right at the door before he stepped into the room. “And you’re right here.”

He looked around. “Where’s Lilynette-chan?”

Starrk eyed the other man for a moment, watching as he sat cross-legged just a distance away. There probably wasn’t any way for him to chase him away right now, so Starrk sat up, stretching his arms above his head.

“Not here,” he answered succinctly.

At the sight of the raised eyebrow, he continued, “She’s out exploring, trying to make a map.”

“A map?” the other eyebrow went up.

“Don’t look like that, taichou-san,” Starrk drew his legs up, dropping his head on his knees. “The map will be in her head. There is no chance that it’ll be stolen or lost.”

Kyouraku didn’t reply, seemingly busy with popping the cap of the jar. He retrieved two small porcelain dishes from his sleeves; Starrk looked at them curiously – they resembled the saucers that Aizen had used to hold his teacups.

“Sometimes you’re rather scary, Starrk-san,” the man said eventually, looking at him from beneath the shadows of his hat. “I almost think you can read my mind.”

Starrk closed his eyes. “Like I said, you’re not a difficult man to read.”

The sound of porcelain clinking filled the air. Starrk’s nose twitched as the smell of something sharp and sweet filled in air. Slowly, his eyes lifted open just a slit, watching as Kyouraku pick up one of the dishes – filled with some kind of transparent, water-like liquid – and sipped at it.

“I take it that you’ve never had sake, Starrk-san?”

“I know what it is,” he murmured. “Ichimaru used to drink some of it during meetings. But I’ve only ever had tea.”

One of the dishes slid across the tatami floor – miraculously not spilling a single drop of its contents – before stopping right in front of Starrk.

“Try it,” Kyouraku urged, sounding encouraging.

Starrk stared dubiously for a long moment before he swept it off of the tatami. The scent reminded him of leaves, and he looked at the Captain across from him over the rim of the dish.

“If you’re going to poison me, you wouldn’t be so obvious about it,” he commented. Then he took a sip.

… Sweet, lingering on the tongue, and without the subtle hint of bitterness that was present in every single cup of Aizen’s tea. Warm, spreading outwards from first contact, surrounding him when it hit the back of his throat. Starrk lidded his eyes, letting out a surprised, heavy sigh.

“It tastes good, doesn’t it?”

“Mm,” Starrk hummed. “It’s not bad.”

Kyouraku barked a laugh, leaning forward. “This is one of my most precious private stores, you know,” he teased, grinning wide. “And all you can say that it’s ‘not bad’?”

“Am I supposed to say something else?” Starrk cocked his head lazily. “I’m not a connoisseur; you know that.”

“Ahh, but anyone with a refined palate would be able to appreciate good sake!”

“And what would I have refined my palate with? The different types of sand that were caught between my teeth, perhaps?”

“What about all the Hollows you eat?” Kyouraku asked, dark smile half-hidden behind his sake dish. “Doesn’t each of them have a different taste?”

Starrk snorted, completely unsurprised. “I didn’t realise that you have the bad habit of licking the blood of your enemies off your sword, taichou-san,” he drawled.

A chuckle burst out of the other man. “What makes you think I do that?”

“Many Shinigami believe that Hollows are food for other Hollows,” Starrk pointed out, dryly. “But only a particularly perverse one will imagine that Hollows _taste_ differently.”

He put the dish down, chasing the odd, sweet taste to the sides of his mouth. “Do you always play such dangerous games?”

“Only with people who can tell that it is a game,” Kyouraku replied, swirling the liquid in his own dish. “And only those with the weapons to fight back.”

His smile widened slightly “It has been a very long time since I’ve played a single round.”

Starrk blinked. There were implications hidden in the creases of those lips that he could not understand.

“What about the white-haired taichou-san?” he asked. “Or even the smaller one, the one with all the ice; didn’t you call him a genius?”

Kyouraku didn’t answer immediately, simply pouring more sake for himself. “Just because Ukitake understands the rules don’t mean he wants to play,” he said thoughtfully. “Or that he can.”

He took a sip of his sake. “As for Hitsugaya-kun… ah, it’s such a terrible tragedy that there are different types of abilities that one might be a genius at,” he shook his head mournfully. “If only being a genius means being a genius at everything.”

“Are you?”

“Am I?” Kyouraku cocked his head.

“A genius at everything.”

“Well, ‘genius’ is a terribly strong word to use,” Kyouraku said, tapping his smirking lips with the rim of his sake dish. “I suppose I am above average at everything. Though I leave the kido work entirely to Nanao-chan; she’s so much better than me at it.”

Rolling his eyes, Starrk drained the sake, feeling the warmth burst in his chest. “You’re like the shadow on the wall,” he noted. “In the middle ground between ground and sky, and therefore perfectly unpredictable.”

Kyouraku pointed at him. “Except for you.”

He raised a silent eyebrow.

“I’m not very unpredictable to you, am I?” the Captain asked. His eyes were oddly bright and solemn as they rest on Starrks’ face. 

The Eighth Division’s sigil was engraved on the bottom of the porcelain dish in his hand, Starrk realised. It was coloured a strange mixture of pink and purple.

“You defeated me,” he said eventually. “Doesn’t that prove that you are as unpredictable to me as you are to everyone else?”

“Does it?” Kyouraku hummed quietly under his breath. “Say, Starrk-san… how long have you been fighting?”

Starrk raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking a lot of questions for a man who promised to give answers, taichou-san.”

“Is that a warning?”

“A reminder.” And also a diversion, but he knew that Kyouraku would understand that without any need of hints.

“Mm, so it is,” Kyouraku said. He slumped abruptly, his back hitting the tatami mats with a loud _thump_ before he pulled the straw hat over his head.

“Aizen has been convicted of treason and sentenced to twenty thousand years in the Muken,” he murmured after a long while, dragging out nearly every single syllable. “Ichimaru has been convicted of a whole bunch of boring things, and his sentence is to have his powers removed, and he can’t ever move beyond the gates of Seireitei.”

Kyouraku flashed him a grin. “We took your suggestion regarding Aizen,” he said.

Starrk cocked his head to the side, slowly raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t say to imprison him for twenty thousand years,” he pointed out. Though… was it even possible for Aizen to live that long? Was it possible for the Hogyoku to last that long?

But the whole punishment reeked due to a whole other reason.

“Is it that they’re Shinigami?” he asked, tone deliberately casual.

“Mm?”

“That none of you are willing to dirty your hands with Shinigami blood,” he dropppd his head into one hand, eyes piercingly sharp upon Kyouraku beneath the heavy lids. “Are you waiting for Ichimaru and Aizen to die by themselves… or to take their own lives?”

Kyouraku’s lips curved up into a wide, mirthless smile.

“Or are you all waiting for someone to lose their control and kill them in your stead?” Starrk continued, gaze still fixed on the other man. “Is that why you let all of us Arrancar go, so that we will do your dirty work… so that, in the end, all of you feel much better about yourselves, for you only executed a Hollow instead of a Shinigami.”

He reached over, meaning to pick up the jar of alcohol. But Kyouraku’s hand came down immediately upon his wrist, closing tight around the stone restraint. Starrk lifted his eyes to meet dark shadows cast by a tipped-down hat.

“You’re terrible, Starrk-san,” the Captain drawled. “Insulting me like this and then shamelessly drinking more of my sake…”

“You offered the sake freely,” he pointed out. “And is it really an insult if it is true?”

“Are you so sure that it’s true?” 

Sword-callused hands poured and handed him a filled dish. Starrk took it, eyes flickering at the liquid for a moment before he shrugged.

“It is a guess.”

Kyouraku hummed thoughtfully for a moment before he chuckled. “The middle ground, Starrk-san,” he said, grinning out of one corner of his mouth. “You are half-right.”

Picking up rhe small dish, he held it between splayed fingers, staring into the depths of the alcohol. Starrk wondered what it was that he saw.

“It’s unfortunate, but Aizen can’t be killed,” he murmured. “The instrument of execution that _might_ have succeeded in killing him has already been destroyed.” His grin twitched, slightly. “As a result, imprisonment is the only option.”

Sighing, Kyouraku drained the alcohol. “Since we can’t execute Aizen, we can’t execute Ichimaru either,” he sighed heavily. “Therefore, their punishment will have to be for them to live.”

Starrk lifted the sake dish to his lips, sipping slowly. “So soutaichou-san, along with the rest of you, had already decided on a punishment, and you were all simply waiting for us to give you some sort of justification to use?”

And Starrk had delivered, right on a silver platter. His lips curled into a bitter smirk.

“Here I thought you were simply testing our loyalty.”

Kyouraku’s smile mirrored his own. “You have a little too much faith in us,” he said, mirth twining around every word. “Not all of us are as clever as you are.”

That might just be a feint, but Starrk recklessly took the bait anyway. “There is you, taichou-san,” he murmured. “No doubt soutaichou-san and the white-haired taichou-san are as clever,” he gave the word an ironic lilt, “as well.”

“Ukitake would be pleased that you think so well of him,” Kyouraku chuckled.

“I’m not a fool,” Starrk replied wryly. “Who else?”

There was a moment when Kyouraku hesitated, eyes hidden by his hat and mouth by his sake dish. Then he smiled widely, with caution half-hidden in the corners of his eyelids.

“Retsu-senpai,” he said. “The Fourth Division Captain.”

Suddenly, all the pieces clicked together, and Starrk _understood_ just what Kyouraku was trying to nudge him towards. His eyes narrowed, very slightly.

Kyouraku tipped his hat back, and smiled. “Quicker than even I had expected,” he said.

Starrk shook his head. If, as Kyouraku had implied, there were three Captains who were not just clever but also cunning enough to play manipulative tricks to get what they want… and all three of them had sympathies of one sort or another for the Arrancar. Ukitake and Kyouraku had already made their intentions clear by being sponsors, but the female Captain was more subtle: Starrk realised now that the fact that all of the Arrancar were at full health because of _her_. Not to mention Neliel’s recovery.

His eyes narrowed even further. “Why are all three of you on our side?” he asked.

“Ah, who knows?” Kyouraku gestured expansively with his sake dish, managing to somehow not spill a single drop. “I can’t speak for Ukitake or Retsu-senpai, but… perhaps it’s simply that I would like to be a better man than Aizen.”

“What,” Starrk snapped out the word, “does Aizen have to do with this?”

“The soul of a Hollow is meaningless,” Kyouraku said, deliberately lowering his voice in some sort of strange imitation. “There is nothing cruel in giving meaning to its existence.”

Starrk closed his eyes.

“He was speaking of the Wonderweiss creature,” the Captain continued, his voice gentle. Starrk felt the weight and warmth of his hand rest on his shoulder. “Still, it is a cruel thing to say. An even crueller thing to do.”

Shaking his head, Starrk’s fists clenched by his side. “I can’t believe that you would do _anything_ to prove Aizen wrong, taichou-san,” he said, voice tight. “Even if you might say that it is your character to behave uncharacteristically.”

A soft chuckle ghosted near his face, and Starrk could smell the light, almost-there sweetness of the alcohol on the other man’s breath. 

“Perhaps I want to provide a catalyst for a revolution, then,” he said, amused.

“A revolution?” Starrk repeated, definitely sceptical.

“Mm,” Kyouraku nodded. “It’s long past time that we try to understand each other, isn’t it? The Shinigami and the Hollow, that is.” 

His face was perfectly serious, as was his voice… but Starrk couldn’t help but notice the slight upward crinkle in the corner of his right eye. He watched, fascinated, as it widened as Kyouraku chuckled.

“Besides, there’s a good argument to be made that you hubrids are akin to the children born between the two races, and good parents know better than to fight in front of their children!”

The final statement was delivered with a sweeping flourish that had Starrk staring. Gathering his own sense of logic and holding onto it with his next breath, he decided that he _had_ to address that level of ridiculousness. 

“Taichou-san…” he began slowly, brows furrowing. “Are you suggesting that, given the similarities between us, I might just be your son, born from some liaison with some Hollow?”

He kept his features perfectly stern: eyes concerned, brows furrowed, shoulders slumped… even as Kyouraku choked on his sake and nearly slammed his own face into the floor. Starrk picked up his own dish, lifting it to his mouth. He didn’t drink a single sip, simply using the prop to cover his twitching lips.

“That was _cruel_ , Starrk-san!” Kyouraku finally regained enough coherence – and breath – to cry out.

Starrk shrugged. “Only as cruel as your suggestion deserves, taichou-san,” he said, suppressing his smile ruthlessness.

Kyouraku looked at him, still chuckling, before he shook his head.

They fell into an oddly easy and comfortable silence, the two of them with their eyes still fixed upon each other’s faces as they sipped the sake. Starrk knew why he wasn’t speaking – he wanted to concentrate on the burning sweet taste and the heat the liquid spread throughout his body – but Kyouraku’s reasons were still unclear to him.

It didn’t matter. This silence fitted around them well enough.

But when Kyouraku reached forward to pour them more alcohol, Starrk found himself breaking it.

“Is the offer still open, taichou-san?” he asked, knowing that Kyouraku would know immediately what he meant.

The grey eyes were knowing and hopeful when they were lifted to meet his, and Starrk finally allowed himself the smallest of smiles.

“Of course,” the Captain said.

“Then Lilynette and I will take you up on it.” Starrk placed the dish on the tatami-covered floor, nudging it over.

“We’ll like to learn how to read.”

***

Isane was rushing towards her the very moment Retsu reached the Fourth Division barracks. She stopped, folding her arms into her sleeves – she knew why the younger woman looked so harassed, but she would wait until Isane had found the words.

“My deepest apologies, Unohana-taichou,” the words tumbled out of her Lieutenant in a rush. “But Zaraki-taichou and Kusajishi-fukutaichou are here and they…”

Retsu waved a hand, continuing her leisurely walk towards the barracks; more specifically, towards the sound of one man’s loud yelling.

“Do not fret so, Isane,” she chided softly. “The other officers will panic at seeing you in such a state in our own Division.”

Isane flushed immediately, and she gave Retsu a low bow. “My deepest apologies,” she said again. But her gait was far steadier as she fell into step behind Retsu, and Retsu allowed herself a small smile as they walked towards the source of the noise.

Zaraki Kenpachi was standing in the middle of the hallway, Kusajishi on his shoulder as always.

“I know you’re hiding this Grimmjow guy somewhere!” he was yelling. But, Retsu noted, he wasn’t laying a hand on any of her people. “So where the hell is he, huh?”

Retsu raised her reiatsu slightly, just enough for it to push against Zaraki’s always-unrestrained power. The man instantly turned towards her.

“I believe that Grimmjow-san and Neliel-san have already returned to Hueco Mundo,” she told the other Captain pleasantly, her small smile never budging. “Neliel-san no longer requires our aid.”

For the day.

Zaraki’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah? And when will he be back?”

The very next day. 

She resisted smiling wider. “We at the Fourth Division do not keep watch over our patients like they are prisoners, Zaraki-taichou,” she murmured, which was absolutely true. Giving their patients appointments, after all, was nothing like trapping them.

“Keh,” Zaraki’s scowl deepened. “If Grimmjow isn’t here, then what about that Primera guy? Where is he? He owes me a fight.”

Ah, so _that_ was who had led Zaraki here. Retsu made a mental note to talk to Kyouraku-taichou about his charge as soon as possible. She would talk to Starrk-san herself, of course, but she didn’t think it would be as effective.

“Starrk-san has already returned to the Eighth Division, I believe,” she said lightly.

The scowl was practically eating Zaraki’s face now. “Keh,” he said again. “This has been a complete waste of time.”

He strode down the hallway towards Retsu, clearly heading for the exit. Retsu waited until the man was at the doorway, and she stifled the widening of her smile as Zaraki looked back at her.

“Thanks for telling me, Unohana,” the Captain said gruffly. “But your people really need some toughening up. I was just asking a few questions and they were pissing their pants.”

Retsu _did_ allow her smile to widen now.

“Are you advising me on how to run my Division, Zaraki-taichou?”

Zaraki looked at her for a moment before he barked a laugh. “Nah,” he waved a hand, chuckling. “I like my balls where they are, thanks.”

Bowing slightly at his departure, Retsu watched as Isane flailed slightly before she followed the motion. 

“Bye, Braids-taichou!”

Looking at the child who now carried her old name from under heavy eyelids, Retsu hid a smile. Honestly, she would have loved to see the fight between Zaraki and Grimmjow; just not in the vicinity of her Division.

After all, Zaraki had been fascinating ever since the very first time Retsu had met that nameless boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been trying to find a term that describes the way Starrk and Shunsui interact in the second to last scene. I came up with ‘verbal tango’ and a friend of mine suggested ‘murder banter’… I don’t know which one is better, or if there is anything else. 
> 
> Suggestions?
> 
> That scene is likely the favourite out of all I’ve ever written between these two, and sums up just why I ship them so much. Yes, I really like writing intelligent characters _being_ intelligent (and manipulative) and playing word games. There’s a reason why my favourite characters are Starrk and Shunsui. Writing them let me do stuff like this.
> 
> Talking about pairings, I have some favourites here and there other than the ones I've made 'canon' for this fic. So yes, any implications you spot are entirely deliberate.
> 
> Also, one last chapter until the next arc where things speed up more. Yes, there will be a next arc. I said that this is an epic, didn’t I?


	9. The Boy Who Sacrificed Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something new, something old, and something… white.

Slowly, Jyuushirou drew out the inkstick from its wooden lacquered box, brandishing it with a flourish. Two pairs of eyes fixed upon the decorated dark stick immediately, one with barely-veiled recognition, the other with impatience. 

“The dark marks made on paper are made using ink,” he began. “And this is where ink comes from, and which we can use to write and make marks of our own.”

Starrk and Lilynette’s reading lessons had been going well. Both of them were eager to learn, coming daily to his offices armed with steel-trap memories and a voracious hunger for knowledge. 

Jyuushirou looked at the two of them now, a smile playing on the corners of his lips as he recalled the story of Momotarou that he had read to them but three days ago. While Lilynette had asked, persistently, just _how_ Momotarou had ended up in the peach – practically ignoring the rest of the story in the process – Starrk was far more fascinated by the help the three animals had extended to the boy Momotarou, trying to figure out just _why_ a single millet dumpling was worth the effort of fighting against demons.

Honestly, Jyuushirou far preferred Lilynette’s questions. Answering Starrk’s had forced him to verbalise his own deeply-held beliefs about honour, and debt,, the very foundations of both his being and Soul Society itself, and Jyuushirou had found himself extremely uncomfortable more than once because he had the feeling that Starrk had underlying reasons for wanting answers, and it had to do with Aizen.

But he thought that he could see just what had drawn Kyouraku to Starrk during those moments of intense questioning: those bright grey-blue eyes that revealed the razor-sharp intellect beneath; the precision of the questions that was proof of perceptiveness that could strip both people and ideas to their very bones; and the gentle sensitivity of the soul revealed in the abrupt changes of subject just before Jyuushirou was consumed by his intense discomfort.

No wonder Kyouraku had been unable to resist. 

“Oy!” Lilynette kicked him on the knee, scowlingly irate. “You’re spacing out, old man!” 

“My apologies,” Jyuushirou held up his hands, stifling a laugh at the pout on her face. “I was trying to remember.”

Lilynette had her own charms, of course. She was brash and impulsive, with an eagerness to try out everything she learned even before understanding the whole of it. Despite her protest, Jyuushirou could not help but see her as a child still.

The two of them claimed them they were born from the same soul, but Jyuushirou was starting to suspect that the case was far more complicated than that. He was unconscious when they merged into a single form, and though he believed in it, he couldn’t help but doubt. Weren’t the higher-level Hollows all made of a collection of souls? Could it be that they weren’t part of the _same_ soul, but part of one another, nonetheless? 

How would that even work anyway?

Dismissing those thoughts, he concentrated on his students once more. There was no use in dwelling in such things now, and Lilynette was beginning to fidget.

He started to rub the inkstick against the stone, causing the water that had already been poured onto it to darken to black.

“This is made out of the soot of burnt trees,” Jyuushirou began softly, dissolving the ink into smooth circles. “When it was first made, the soot was gathered from the dregs of logs burnt for warmth in winter. The black dust would be stored in canisters, to be dissolved with water to be used. But it spoiled easily.

“Then it was discovered that if we add glues are found naturally in animals to the soot, it would would stick together, and we can form blocks like this,” he held up the inkstick. “Glue from the undersides of oxhide, or from boiled fish skin, were most commonly used; after all, if we did not use those, they would simply be thrown away.”

“When was it first discovered that such a thing is possible?” Starrk asked softly.

Jyuushirou smiled at the completely typical question from the man. “I’m not quite sure,” he said apologetically. “More than a thousand years ago, at the very least. When I first learned to write, it was already with these sticks.”

The pool of black had reached enough thickness to be used. Jyuushirou lifted it from the inkstone, turning it over so he offered the dry end to his students.

“Will you like to touch it?”

Lilynette grabbed the inkstick even before Starrk could reach out his hand. She ran a finger over the edges, tracing the tiny, intricate snowdrops.

“It doesn’t come off,” she observed. Jyuushirou watched, amused, as she touched the wet end before bringing her blackened finger into her mouth. “And it tastes disgusting.”

He laughed. “Well, this one isn’t made to be eaten,” he told her.

“This one?” Starrk asked immediately. Taking the stick from Lilynette, his nails made tiny clicking sounds as he ran them over the sides.

“Mm,” Jyuushirou nodded. “There used to be inksticks made that were mixed not just with glue, but with medicinal herbs as well. They were to be ground in hot water and drank.”

“ _Eww_ ,” Lilynette made a face. “Why would anyone do that?”

“Soot has medicinal properties,” Jyuushirou told her, smiling slightly. “It is particularly effective against illnesses of the stomach. In fact, charcoal can help to lessen the effects of poison, or spoilt food.”

The two Arrancar, who had probably never eaten anything in their entire lives except for souls and other Hollows, simply blinked at him.

“I’ll take your word for that,” Starrk said dryly.

Lilynette kicked out her legs. “Enough with the history lesson already,” she complained. “I want to learn how to write.”

“Alright, alright,” Jyuushirou said placatingly. He picked out two brushes – one smaller than the other – and handed it to them.

“You hold the brushes like this,” he demonstrated. “Put your thumb and index finger on one side, and your other fingers spread out on the other. No, Lilynette-chan; further out, your smallest finger must be right above the hairs. Look at how Starrk-san is holding it.”

“It’s not very different from how you hold a sword,” Starrk commented. He reached out, taking Lilynette’s hand in his as he adjusted her grip.

Jyuushirou hid a smile. He would, he thought, leave the topic of ink painting and its connection to the way of the sword for another day. 

“What is it that you would like to learn to write first?” he asked instead.

“Our names,” Lilynette replied promptly. “Lilynette Gingerbuck and Coyote Starrk.”

Nodding, Jyuushirou smoothed out a piece of paper on the table. “It will have to be in katakana,” he said, almost apologetic.

“It’s fine,” Starrk said.

“It’s better,” Lilynette corrected him. “Then we can make our names mean whatever we like.”

Jyuushirou chuckled. He dipped his brush into his pen before writing, in large characters, his more impatient student’s name:

リリネット・ジンジャーバック

“Li-li-net-to Jin-ja-a-bak-ku,” he read out loud, enunciating each syllable clearly and pointing to the character it corresponds to.

コヨーテ・スターク

“Ko-yo-u-te Su-ta-a-ku.”

The two of them peered at the letters. Lilynette poked at the drying ink, smudging her name, and she wiped off the spot of black on the corner of the paper.

“Try it,” Jyuushirou urged. 

They exchanged a glance before complying. Jyuushirou watched, a smile tugging on the edge of his lips, as Lilynette filled her entire piece of paper with just thirteen characters, all of them lopsided and a little unsteady. Starrk, on the other hand, wrote his name in a straight line downwards, his characters much smaller and neater.

Starrk put his brush down, staring at the paper with his name on it with an odd look on his face. Then he shook his head.

“How do we write your name, taichou-san?” he asked quietly.

Instead of answering, Jyuushirou dipped his brush into the ink again.

浮竹 十四郎

“Uki-take Jyuu-shi-rou,” he pronounced carefully, pointing from one character to another.

Lilynette peered over his arm, staring at the characters. She was mouthing his name, squinting her single eye as she pointed from one character, then the next.

“Say,” she looked at him. “I know that these two,” she pointed at the first two characters of his given name, “mean fourteen, and ‘rou’ is the same ‘rou’ as Momotarou.”

“Mm,” Jyuushirou nodded encouragingly.

“But what does the whole thing mean?”

“Floating,” he pointed to ‘uki’, “bamboo,” to ‘take’, “fourteenth son,” he pointed to the last three characters.

His students blinked at him. Lilynette cocked her head very slowly.

“You… named yourself after a dead plant?” she asked, looking utterly confused.

“And where are the other thirteen?” Starrk’s eyes were darting around, as if he expected them to pop up at any moment.

Jyuushirou put down his brush. He covered his mouth with that hand and let loose the laughter within him.

“Sorry,” he tried to apologise through the laughter. “But that was…” he shook his head hard. “I’ve never had anyone react _that_ way to my name before.”

“Your name doesn’t make sense,” Lilynette said, as if pointing out something obvious. Jyuushirou decided to not tell her that neither did _hers_.

“Ukitake is my surname,” he explained after gaining some control of his laughter. “And I was named the fourteenth son because I was the fourteenth grandson of my grandfather.”

Lilynette and Starrk exchanged a look. Starrk jerked his head towards her, and Lilynette turned back towards Jyuushirou with a determined look.

“What’s a surname?”

Jyuushirou blinked.

“Both of you have surnames,” he said, confused. “Aren’t Gingerbuck and Starrk your surnames?”

They looked at each other again. This time, Lilynette shoved an elbow into Starrk’s ribs, and the man sighed heavily.

“It’s just the second of our names,” he shrugged. “Every Hollow chooses two names when he or she learns how to speak.” He paused for a moment, brow furrowing. “Usually we just end up using one of our names… I don’t know why we always choose two, actually.”

“Maybe it has to do with this surname business,” Lilynette suggested, but she didn’t look convinced.

“A surname is…” Jyuushirou paused, trying to find the simplest way to explain it. “Your family’s name; the name that tells people which family you belong to. Usually, the name is passed down from the father to the children.”

Starrk looked thoughtful. “I think that’s why Szayel and Yylfordt had the same second name,” he told Lilynette. “They’re brothers, right?”

“I don’t think their second name belonged to their sire, though,” Lilynette frowned.

Jyuushirou’s jaw dropped for a moment. He swallowed, and forced it close again. After a moment, he finally found the words.

“… Hollows can have _children_?”

Two pairs of eyes shot back at him. Starrk smiled wryly, while Lilynette rolled her eyes.

“Well, _duh_ ,” she said.

Putting down her brush, she propped her elbows on the table and started ticking off her fingers. “Let’s see… out of all of us, I think… Szayel – and Yylfordt – was born… Ulquiorra was born… Grimmjow?”

Starrk shook his head. “He worked his way up.”

His other half nodded, scratching her helmet-like mask fragment. “I think that’s it,” she said. 

“Hollows don’t have children often,” Starrk added quietly. 

“Because Hueco Mundo is a shitty and dangerous place,” Lilynette snorted. She shrugged a little. “But it’s pretty easy to tell when a Hollow was born instead of working their way up.”

“How?” Jyuushirou croaked.

“They tend to be more broken and inhuman than the rest of us,” Starrk replied, looking down at the brush in his hand. “Born Hollows are usually composed of bits and pieces of assimilated souls from their parents’ collection; they didn’t start out as a whole person.”

“That’s his long-winded way of saying that they’re all nutcases,” Lilynette snorted. 

“They’re not all that bad,” Starrk protested.

“Your opinion doesn’t count,” she countered. “Your standards are shit.” She paused for a moment.

“Hey! Maybe that’s why most Hollows don’t have kids. Who wants to give birth to confirmed nutcases?”

Starrk snorted quietly, shaking his head.

Taking a deep breath, Jyuushirou stilled the shaking of his hands. He was extremely thankful that Starrk and Lilynette had told only _him_ this: he couldn’t imagine what the other Captains’ reactions would’ve been to the idea that Hollows could reproduce on their own. Soul Society’s entire system of power was based on the idea that those who could give birth to a new soul was somehow superior to those who could not. To learn that their eternal enemies, the very Hollows sneered to be little more than beasts, could do the same…

He shook his head.

“And how is that accomplished?” he heard himself ask.

“Huh?” Lilynette asked.

“How do you have children?” he elaborated.

The two Arrancar exchanged another glance. Starrk shrugged, and Lilynette turned back to him, leaning in.

“Uh…” she said, frowning a little. “I don’t know whether to pity you or just feel sad in general, but… do you Shinigami not… have sex? Do we have to give you the sex talk?”

“No!” Jyuushirou yelped, shaking his head hard. “No! That’s not necessary! That’s completely unnecessary! Please don’t!”

A sly smirk tugged at the sides of her mouth. “Are you _sure_?” she practically leered.

Jyuushirou winced. “Lilynette-chan, please stop,” he practically begged. “That face… it really doesn’t suit you.”

“Lilynette,” Starrk said, reaching out to tap her on the shoulder. She huffed, and Jyuushirou would’ve been more grateful for the intervention if Starrk didn’t look as if he was going to burst into laughter at any moment.

“If you know about sex, taichou-san, then why did you ask?”

Calming himself with another deep breath, Jyuushirou frowned. “Because of the term you just used. You said ‘sire’, not father.”

There was another rapid exchange of glances that he couldn’t decipher. Lilynette frowned, opening her mouth, but Starrk shook his head. He put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly before he turned to Jyuushirou.

“That is complicated, and will take far too long to explain,” he said, and Jyuushirou knew, instantly, that he was hedging. “And I’d rather we go on with our lesson.”

“Lilynette-chan?”

The girl shook her head. “I told you already, I can’t explain things the way Starrk can,” she said, eyes averted.

They were hiding something from him. Or, more precisely, there was something that they definitely didn’t want to tell him. He wondered what it was, and why one particular question he asked could make them clamp up like that.

But he knew when it was useless to press anymore, especially when he didn’t want to alienate them just when they were getting somewhere.

“Alright,” he nodded, picking up his brush again. “What would you like to learn to write now?”

“Taichou-san’s name,” Starrk said promptly.

Jyuushirou stifled a grin, instead writing Kyouraku’s name in neat, large letters.

京楽 春水

“Kyou-raku Shun-sui,” he pointed to each character. Then, before Starrk could voice the question in his eyes, he explained. “His surname is a little harder than mine to explain. The first character means the capital, while the second ‘enjoyment’ – I suppose it means ‘enjoyment at the capital’. His given name means ‘spring water’.”

Starrk’s head jerked upwards. “Like a brook’s?” 

“No,” Jyuushirou said. “Spring as in the season.”

“That’s a pity,” Starrk said, looking down at his paper as he slowly copied the words. “If his name means a brook, then it would really suit him.”

“What do you mean?”

Lilynette kicked her other half. “You need to speak sense,” she grumbled.

Starrk looked up at the two of them before he smiled lopsidedly. “His reiatsu,” he said softly. “He always feels… cool, and refreshing, like the brook over there,” he motioned beyond the window, “within the mountains.”

Jyuushirou wondered what it meant, for a creature stuck in a desert like Starrk to think that Kyouraku felt like a source of water. His lips twitched, and he hid it behind a hand. 

“It might still be fitting,” he said instead. Meeting Starrk’s gaze, he smiled. “If you stay here for a few more months, Starrk-san, you will be able to feel the first breath of spring that comes after winter.”

He cocked his head to the side in reply. “Are you convincing me to stay?” he asked.

“Of course,” Jyuushirou admitted easily, chuckling. “After all, you’re the first students I’ve had for a long time. I don’t want to lose you.”

Lilynette snorts. “You don’t have to keep trying,” she grumbled, her words becoming jagged with the barely-veiled irritation. “It’s not like we have anywhere else to go.”

“There is a difference,” Jyuushirou said quietly, “between choosing to stay, and not having a choice.”

“Keh,” Lilynette jerked her head away.

Jyuushirou waited.

“We’ll think about it,” Starrk murmured after long moments of silence. His brush lifted off the paper, and he returned it to the stand.

“Perhaps you can ask Kyouraku for his full name once you have decided,” Jyuushirou suggested, careful to keep his voice casual. “It’s rather long, longer than what I’ve shown you. You can ask him why his name is so long too.”

Starrk’s lips quirked upwards slightly.

“Maybe I would.”

_So cautious_ , Jyuushirou thought, looking at him. But he supposed that he could expect nothing else: after all, scars took time to heal, especially the ones that scored so deep on the inside.

But it was alright: if he and Kyouraku had learned anything from the past thousand years, it was patience.

***

“Oh, look who do we have here?”

That tenor voice, lilting with every other syllable… Rukia found her legs locking, fixing her to the ground. There was such irony: Ichimaru Gin could freeze her with just a single spoken sentence, while Rukia needed a sword to do the same to her enemies.

Slowly, she turned around.

The man was dressed in a long-sleeved kosode, hakama, tabi, and waraji: all in the purest of white that made the silver of his hair gleam brightly in the sun. His usual smile curled up his lips. He looked – and felt – like the malevolent ghost of human legends.

“Ichimaru,” she greeted formally. There was no need to name him ‘Captain’ anymore – the utter lack of reiatsu proved it. She knew she should feel reassured of that – there was no way he could hurt her, because he couldn’t even use _shunpo_ anymore – but somehow, it only added to the threat hidden in the shadows of his squinted-shut eyes.

“So cold, Rukia-chan,” Ichimaru tutted, shaking his head. He pushed himself away from the wall that he was leaning on, taking a simple step towards her.

“I was just coming over to congratulate you,” he continued in the same snake-like, lilting tones. “It’s quite something, you know, for an unseated Shinigami to have taken down an Espada.”

Rukia tried her best not to twitch. Her reiatsu must have wavered, or she had shown something in her face, because Ichimaru’s smile widened.

“Aaroniero was the very first one who was taken down, out of all the Espada,” he tapped a lip with a long, thin finger thoughtfully. “Your kill was the very first one. Why, it might even have turned the tide of the war.”

She couldn’t help it: even though the praise had come from such a despicable source, her heart swelled with it. Rukia tried to push it down, to stifle the pride she felt at the very possibility of having done _something_ to aid in the war’s efforts. She had thought that she had done nothing... after all, even after killing Aaroniero, she still had to be rescued by her older brother.

Ichimaru’s smile was suddenly far too close. Rukia’s breath hitched in her throat. She knew, suddenly, that it was all going to happen again. She was a fool enough to allow Ichimaru into her defences, and any moment now he was going to say something to destroy her and she wouldn’t be able to stop—

A foot slammed into Ichimaru’s face.

Rukia reeled backwards, barely managing to keep her balance. She saw a flash of a dark red cloth printed with swaying leaves before Ichimaru went _down_ like a sack of bricks, his arms flailing a little by his side. His assailant had evidently caught him back surprise – and Rukia as well – because he landed on his back, right on the ground.

It was a girl even younger than she was, with light green hair and a white helmet with strange-looking horns protruding. Rukia blinked, recognising one of Ukitake-taichou’s guests… though what she was doing, suddenly sitting on Ichimaru’s neck, Rukia had no idea.

“Uh…” she tried.

“Oy, you annoying bastard,” the girl was saying. Rukia watched with morbid fascination as she gripped Ichimaru’s cheeks and _pulled_ the skin like some kind of clay. “Do you know what people call men who get too close to young girls? _Perverts_. Do you know how to write that word? Do you want me to show you with your own blood?”

Ichimaru seemed remarkably unfazed – or used to the treatment – because he was still smiling. “I didn’t know you could write, Lilynette-chan,” he commented.

“I’m _learning_ ,” ‘Lilynette’ loomed right over him, her lips drawn wide into a grin that was both eerily reminiscent of Ichimaru’s and absolutely comedic at the same time. Rukia twitched again, this time trying not to laugh.

“Really?” there was just the slightest hint of blue appearing beneath the closed lids. “What have you learned?”

“Lots,” Lilynette declared. “And I’m not going to tell you, you creepy pervert.”

“Well,” Ichimaru said, finally sounding a little strangled. “If you don’t get off me, Lilynette-chan, you never will.”

Lilynette gave him a long, searching look that was utterly strange on her childlike face. After a moment, she seemed to come to some decision, because she stood up.

“Oy, Starrk!” Her loud voice rang out so loudly that Rukia would be surprised if the neighbouring Twelfth Division didn’t hear her. “Some annoying bastard is here to talk to you!”

The other Arrancar emerged from the doors of Ukitake-taichou’s office, stretching out his lanky limbs. 

“I can’t tell who you’re referring to, Lilynette,” he murmured, voice barely loud enough to be heard. “You call everyone some kind of—”

He stopped abruptly, eyes focusing. “Oh, it’s you,” he said.

Ichimaru, still on the floor, gave a jaunty little wave. “Hello there, Starrk-chan.”

Lilynette picked up a rock and tossed it at Starrk. “If the two of you are going to talk, get him out of here,” she demanded.

Starrk had caught the rock with ease, and he blinked sleepy-looking grey-blue eyes. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Ichimaru was looking between the two Arrancar with a lopsided edge to his usual wide smile. Rukia kept her eyes on him, trying to convince herself that she needed to so as to make sure that he didn’t try anything untoward in the Division. But the excuse was weak, and the creeping, itching feeling she felt underneath her skin grew stronger with every second.

She had almost reached her limit when Starrk _moved_ : one moment, he was at the door; the next, he was right in front of Ichimaru. Rukia gaped – the man seemed like he _teleported_ – and her jaw dropped even wider when Starrk grabbed Ichimaru by the waist and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Lilynette’s orders,” he drawled. “Let’s go, Ichimaru.”

Then the two men were gone, just like that.

“You look kinda stupid with your mouth open like that,” Lilynette said, shoving her face really close to Rukia’s. “But you look better than you did before, so whatever.”

Rukia instinctive threw her hand outwards, throwing out the heel of her palm right against Lilynette’s nose.

“Ow!”

“Any- anyone would’ve been shocked when they seem a man being carried away like a bag of rice!” she yelled.

Lilynette snorted. “Yeah, and you looked all pretty with your mouth open that big. There’s even spinach on your teeth.”

Rukia’s hands flew to her mouth, covering it. She wondered if it was possible for her to slip off the brush her teeth- but wait, she didn’t have spinach today?

Her eyes were widening again when she heard Lilynette break into peals of laughing, practically rolling on the grass. The yukata she was wearing – a plain, dark red background embroidered with small leaves that matched her hair – was rapidly getting dirtier. 

Rukia took a deep breath, reminding herself that nobles did not lose their tempers to Hollows.

Then Lilynette cracked open an eye and started laughing even harder. Rukia’s eye twitched, and she kicked the little girl hard on the side.

“Will you stop your cackling already?”

“Ow!” the laughter started to peter off, and Lilynette sat up, gulping for breath as she dragged a hand through the hair that showed through the helmet- through her _mask fragment_ , Rukia reminded herself.

“Look, Shinigami,” Lilynette said, tipping her head up. She was grinning wide, her single eye glinting with curiosity. “Why are you so scared of that annoying bastard Ichimaru?”

Rukia’s breath caught in her throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, looking away.

“God, why is it that everything thinks that I’m _stupid_ or something?” Lilynette rolled her eye, flopping back onto the grass. “You were looking at him like a mouse into the jaws of a snake, so how can I not know that you’re scared of him?”

“You said it yourself, he looks like a snake,” Ruki pointed out, ignoring the fact that she was paraphrasing the Arrancar’s words inaccurately. “Why aren’t _you_ scared of him?”

Lilynette rolled her eyes. “Because he’s a damned snake, that’s why.”

“What?”

Peeking at her, Lilynette sighed, sitting up. “Look, you know where you are with snakes,” she said. “Snakes bite, and they’re poisonous. You _know_ that just by looking at them.”

Rukia blinked.

“You know who I think is _really_ scary?” Lilynette asked, propping her head up with a hand. “That floating bamboo Captain of yours.”

Floating… bamboo…? “ _Ukitake-taichou_?”

“Yeah,” Lilynette nodded. “His name is really fitting, you know.”

“Why?” 

“It’s like a dead log in a river, you know?” she waggled her hand in the air. Rukia took a moment to understand that Lilynette was imitating a floating piece of driftwood. “It looks perfectly harmless, but it might be a crocodile… or you might think it is heavy enough to carry you, and you step on it… poof!” she spread her hands out wide.

“You’re dead from drowning.”

“It sounds…” Rukia said carefully. “It sounds like you’re describing Aizen more than Ukitake-taichou.”

“Aizen?” Lilynette snorted. “Nah, he’s completely different. He’s like this guy you go swimming in the ocean with who warns you about the sharks _right_ before he cuts you and throws you in.”

“That’s…” _Surprisingly accurate,_ Rukia thought. But the words felt like hard pebbles in her dry mouth, and she could only swallow them with difficulty. If she admitted that Lilynette’s assessment of Aizen was correct, then surely she was admitting that Ukitake-taichou was dangerous as well. And Rukia couldn’t find it within herself to do such a thing.

So she only shook her head. “I don’t know Aizen well enough to know,” she said.

Lilynette looked at her for a long moment before she snorted, rolling over to lie flat on her back. The ties of her obi gave up the ghost, and the yukata opened to reveal her stomach. Rukia tried her best to not stare at the gaping hole in her abdomen – the clearest sign of her Hollow nature – but she didn’t know if she truly succeeded.

It was such a strange thing: Rukia had gone through most of her life thinking that her textbooks were right about Hollows: they were all bestial, mindless creatures driven only by hunger and the wish to kill. All those she had met during Aizen’s war hadn’t dissuaded her from the notion; even Grimmjow seemed little more than a bloodthirsty beast.

But Lilynette seemed like any other child. ‘Seemed’, because Lilynette had recognised her fear, and had stopped Ichimaru from harassing her further with a literal foot in the face, which Rukia had never thought any child was capable of. Not even Kusajishi-fukutaichou. ‘Seemed’, for Rukia could not find it within herself to disregard the gaping hole in her stomach.

She let herself wonder what it might mean so she would not dwell on thoughts of Ichimaru. Was there any kind of significance to the placement of a Hollow’s hole in their bodies?

“Oy, Shinigami,” Lilynette said suddenly, jarring Rukia from her thoughts.

Instinctively, she scowled. “I have a _name_ ,” she snapped out. “It’s _Kuchiki Rukia_.”

Lilynette blinked. “Which one do you want me to use?”

“What?”

Rukia had a distinct feeling that she kept asking that same question.

“You have two names,” Lilynette said, her tone implying that Rukia was an idiot. “Which one would you want me to use?”

“Oh,” Rukia blinked. “Uh, Kuchiki is fine.”

“So, Kuchiki,” the girl drawled, a wide smile started to curve up her lips. “Can you use that sword of yours?”

“Why did you ask?” Rukia blurted.

“Because Yachiru said that every Shinigami can use their swords even if they didn’t know their names,” Lilynette replied easily, shrugging. “And I just want to see how you use it, that’s all.”

She raised her one visible eyebrow. “So will you show me?”

“I…” Rukia hesitated. She knew she shouldn’t; knew she should at least ask Ukitake-taichou for permission before even thinking of doing so. Yet at the same time, she knew that she owed Lilynette a debt for getting Ichimaru away, even though she didn’t ask the girl to do such a thing.

What harm could just showing her a few moves do anyway? It should be alright as long as Rukia didn’t let go of her blade.

“… Alright,” she nodded.

“Great!” Lilynette jumped up. She kept hopping on the spot, brushing leaves away from her yukata.

Then she stopped suddenly, her single eye fixing on Rukia’s. Rukia found her breath knocked out of her lungs when she saw that wide, childish smile fade to be replaced by an expression that seemed far, far too old for a face that young. 

“I like you already, Kuchiki,” Lilynette said, soft and quiet. “You’re the only one here aside from the floating bamboo who could look me in the face without flinching.”

Before Rukia could even formulate some kind of reply, the other girl was leering at her.

“Though you keep staring at my Hollow hole,” she continued. “Why, are you thinking of getting one of your own?”

“Who…” Rukia sputtered. “Who would want anything like that?”

“Nobody,” Lilynette waved a careless hand. “Now are you going to show me or not?”

Rukia felt almost dizzy, trying to keep up with the Hollow’s changes in mood and demeanour. There seemed to be a hundred shapeless things out of her grasp underneath the surface of every shift, and she could not find a hold onto any of them onto none of them. The feeling was like déjà vu: she had felt the same way when she first entered into the Kuchiki family.

“Come on already!”

Abruptly, she decided to leave thinking for later. She would act like she always did, and figure things out along the way.

***

Starrk sat Ichimaru carefully down on the root of a big tree, leaning the ex-Shinigami’s back against the trunk. He carefully averted his eyes as Ichimaru retched from the _sonido_ , his shoulders shaking.

Looking around, he took in the sight. The forest just beyond the Thirteenth Division was now a mass of red, orange, yellow and brown; all warm shades, the shades of autumn at its zenith, just before giving way to winter. The greens that used to be here had all faded away, and Ukitake had told him that, in winter, the scenery would be cover in white, blue, silver and grey. 

He wondered if there was a reason why the Shinigami had clothed Ichimaru in the colours of winter, or if Ichimaru had chosen his current wardrobe himself.

“Sorry,” he murmured once he realised that Ichimaru was sitting up. “I forgot.”

“My,” Ichimaru said, his usual smile crawling back to his face. “You really do mean that, don’t you, Starrk-chan?”

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Really?” Slowly, Ichimaru cocked his head. “But you are still hurting me, making me looked up like that. My neck aches.”

Starrk nodded, finding a tree root a little distance from the other man before he sat down. “Sorry,” he repeated. “Is this better?”

Those usually-shut eyes opened just a fraction, revealing a slice of blue the colour of ice. “Ahh,” he hummed. “You’re really so eager to please, aren’t you? Like a puppy chasing everyone’s heels, waiting for some sort of praise… You really are so very cute.”

He tutted quietly. “He really was so terrible to you, wasn’t he, Aizen-taichou. It’s such a good thing that you’re here now, Starrk-chan. Seireitei is a much better place for you. You won’t have to hurt anyone here. You won’t have to fight a war just to have friends.” 

Starrk’s breath hitched in his throat, the air pushed upwards by the slow swell of an undefinable emotion growing in his chest. His eyes fixed upon Ichimaru’s long-fingered hands as they slowly rose.

Ichimaru patted his cheek. The skin felt cold and dry, like the sliding, shifting scales of a snake. 

“I’m lying,” he said cheerfully. “They’re all here just to make use of you. Poor Starrk-chan… you won’t ever be seen as anything more than a useful tool no matter what you do.”

His hand twitched at his sight. Starrk stared at the vulnerable throat. He could snap that neck so easily… or he could grab that wrist and break the bones. He wouldn’t even have to try: the strength of his hierro would do the dirty work. He could even pretend that it was an accident.

But… he didn’t want to. He looked into those mocking blue eyes, and though he knew it might be a lie, he couldn’t help but notice the aching pain buried within the depths.

Gently, he closed his fingers around Ichimaru’s wrist. He turned his head, nuzzling his lips and nose against the palm, hoping to give some sort of comfort.

Ichimaru’s eyes snapped fully open, but he didn’t pull away.

“I think…” he started, quiet and hesitant. “You used to be better at this.”

He remembered clearly the look in the petite female Shinigami’s eyes as she stared at Ichimaru.

“Once, Aizen told me a story,” he said. “I didn’t understand it then, but I think I understand now.” He took a breath.

“He told me a boy who sacrificed everything he had just to save his friend.”

Ichimaru’s smile _vanished_ in that instant, and his already-opened eyes widened further. He didn’t say a word.

“Once, there was a boy who had one friend whom he held close, and whom he wished to protect with everything he had,” Starrk began. He shoved the other memories associated with the telling of that particular tale away. “One day, the boy’s friend was attacked by three men, who took something of hers to offer to a demon for the sake of power. The boy saw this, and offered himself to the demon. He wanted power too, but instead of offering something that belonged to others, he offered the whole of himself in exchange for the power to kill the three men who hurt his friend.”

He shook his head. “Aizen never told me the ending of the story,” he said. “Did you manage to get back what was taken from your friend?”

“No,” Ichimaru said, his voice sounding distant, half-choked. “The demon still has it.”

And so the boy sacrificed everything for power, and though even that power had been taken from him, he still did not manage to get what he wished. 

“This is why you can never make me hate you or be scared of you,” Starrk said, closing his eyes. “I know, Ichimaru. I know that you’re trying to hurt me because you needed to know that you still have power.”

Ichimaru went completely still. His eyes were wide, like a predator who could barely believe that the prey he had chosen could bite back.

“The punishment dealt to you was really cruel,” Starrk pressed his face harder into the cold hand. “They took your power, but they refused to let you leave the place where you are reminded of what you have lost.

“How many people have tried to hurt you so far?”

It had been two weeks at most since Ichimaru had been rendered powerless, but Starrk knew better than to underestimate the depth of people’s hatred, or the way they would lash out towards any possible scapegoat they saw. Perhaps if he peeled away those white clothes, he would be able to see bandages.

Perhaps the white of those clothes had nothing to do with winter, but simply how well they could drown the white bandages in a sea of its own colour.

Starrk opened his eyes, meeting Ichimaru’s blue gaze earnestly. “I am really very sorry.”

Ichimaru’s eyes slowly slid closed again. He smiled, and the shape of it was wrong and so obviously false.

“I prefer you when you were lazy and quiet, Starrk-chan.”

“Mm,” Starrk nodded. “I know. But I don’t.”

He had only been lazy in Las Noches because there was nothing he could do; nothing he wished to do. The first few weeks, he had tried his best to reach out to the other Arrancar, to the companions Aizen had promised him. But every overture had been met with rejection, and he could only spend so much time watching and understanding them before it had hurt far too much to see the tenuous bonds connecting them while he could weave none of his own.

Though Starrk could understand all of them – _all_ of them, from the lowliest Numero who could barely spend ten minutes in his presence to the other Espada whom he desperately clung onto as comrades – he couldn’t use any of that knowledge to make them see him as anything more than a threat.

It wasn’t much better here, but… but at least it was another chance, another try.

Ichimaru folded his fingers, running the rough knuckles over Starrk’s cheekbone.

“This is why Aizen-taichou spent so much time on you” he said musingly. “His dear Primera: clever, powerful… and so, so desperate.”

Starrk smiled wryly. Slowly, he pulled Ichimaru’s hand away from his face.

“I told you already. There’s nothing you can say to make me hate you.”

He understood Ichimaru far too well for hatred. His mind fitted together the broken pieces of a soul far too well for his own liking, and though he wished – sometimes desperately – for the simplicity of hatred, he just couldn’t find it within himself to do so.

“What about Aizen-taichou?” Ichimaru asked, cocking his head to the side.

“I don’t hate him either.” He understood Aizen far too well too; well enough for his betrayal to score deep wounds within him, leaving him bleeding from the inside without even the ability to lash out towards the man who had caused them.

“Maa…” Ichimaru clicked his tongue. “If you can’t even hate Aizen-taichou after all he’s done to you, I haven’t got a chance, mm?”

“Not with me.”

“What about Lilynette-chan?” Ichimaru’s voice turned sly and insinuating. “How much do I have to hurt her to make her hate me? Or you?”

“What kind of power will you gain by hurting a little girl?” Even though Lilynette was far from the child that she looked and sometimes acted, Starrk knew he could use it against Ichimaru. “It’ll be rather pathetic.”

Ichimaru looked at him for a long moment before he chuckled, low and dark. “Has anyone told you that you’re terrifying, Starrk-chan?” 

Starrk sighed, finally stepping away from the other man.

“All the damned time.”

He wished he could find someone, just _one person_ , who didn’t see him as the danger he might prove to be, but simply as himself.

But he supposed that was as ridiculous as wishing for the moon to drop out of the skies into his hands.

Perhaps it made him as desperate as Ichimaru thought he was, but Starrk no longer cared: he would take whatever he could have.

**_~ End Arc 1: A God and His Clay ~_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the first arc is now over.
> 
> The second arc is called _The Captain and the Wolf_. Next up: Zanpaktou rebellion!
> 
> Last chapter, I said that the plot will be moving faster in arc 2, but I make no promises of the same about Shunsui and Starrk’s relationship. It will move a _little_ faster, but trust issues take a long time to resolve. They should be together when Arc 2 ends, but my _plans_ when it comes to this fic… 
> 
> Let’s just say that I thought it was going to be 30k words at most, and now I’ve written over 80k and it’s not half-done yet. I did say that I have plans until Wandenreich, right? That’s arc 3. Eventually.
> 
> Also, I realised something. I’ve had the first drafts up to Chapter 13 written now (not edited), and this fic is about Starrk, and Lilynette, but there are subplots for every ex-resident of Las Noches who is still alive. Which means, yes, Grimmjow, Neliel, Harribel, and Gin will all feature prominently, and have pairings.


	10. Voices in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starrk hears voices. Muramasa makes his move. The author makes rampant assumptions about the nature of Arrancar zanpaktous.

**__**

**_~ Arc 2: The Captain and the Wolf ~_ **

_What is that voice?_

_What is that smell?_

_Do you smell that? This is…_

_Shinigami. **Food**_.

_What is this place?_

_Let me out… Let me out!_

_LET ME OUT!_

**_LET ME OUT!_** ****

*******

Starrk’s hand jerked. 

“Did you hear that?”

“Eh?” Kyouraku, lounging on his office couch, lifted his eyes. He was folding his paperwork into origami shapes, finishing up a paper crane and making it hop on the low table in front of him. “Heard what?”

Starrk hesitated, looking around him. There were only the two of them in the room, and unless paper could suddenly talk, there was no discernible source of the voices… if there were voices in the first place.

He shook his head.

“No, it’s nothing,” he said. Though he could see the concern in Kyouraku’s eyes, he was distracted from reassuring the other man when he looked down at the paper in his hand. The involuntary twitch of his hand had made a large streak of black to cross right over the centre of the paper, utterly ruining the ink painting he was in the midst of completing.

Groaning, he let his head drop onto the table.

“Ugh, I give up,” he groaned. “This is way too difficult.”

Kyouraku chuckled. Starrk heard his footsteps as he came over; felt the hand on his shoulder as the Captain peer at the ruined painting.

“Well. That line creates a rather interesting new aesthetic that I didn’t know existed until now,” he said, sounding far too amused. “You might be starting a new artistic revolution here, Starrk-san.”

Starrk considered stabbing him with the brush. 

“Your jokes are as terrible as ever, taichou-san.”

“No, no,” Kyouraku flapped his hand. “I’m perfectly serious. It’s a very expressive streak, cutting through the desert and the trees like that.”

His mouth was twitching. Starrk gave him a flat look before he turned to look at the painting again.

Words had never sufficed when he was trying to explain what Hueco Mundo felt like, and so he was trying to recreate it with paper and ink. He had almost succeeded: he had the huge expanse of white dotted with some bare trees here and there, the vague outlines of the mountains of bones in the distance, and even the two dark figures in the foreground that was supposed to represent him and Lilynette. Starrk had been trying to paint a new tree at the lower left corner, and that was where the streak of ink begun: it stretched across the entire piece of paper to the opposite edge, crossing over the entire painting and completely destroying the whole of it.

Sighing, he put the brush back on its stand.

“You’re not going to try again?” Kyouraku raised an eyebrow.

“No,” Starrk shook his head. And to stave off the disappointed almost pout he knew was coming, he added, “I’ll do it tomorrow.

“Besides, isn’t it almost time for the Sixth Division’s taichou-san and fukutaichou-san’s demonstration?”

“Is it?” Kyouraku glanced towards the clock at the wall. “Ah, it really is! We’re going to be late!”

Starrk stifled a snort. The Captain’s sense of time was worse than Starrk’s own, which was saying something because Starrk didn’t even know how to count hours and days until Las Noches.

He stood up, stretching a little. “I’ll grab Lilynette and come back then,” he said. She was off in the Eleventh Division, sparring slash playing with Yachiru.

**_LET ME OUT_ **

Wild-eyed, he whirled around, scanning the room. It was as empty as it was five seconds ago, but he _knew_ heheard those voices… Those strange, echoing voices… 

“Starrk-san?” Kyouraku’s face was right in front of him, and Starrk almost tripped over his own feet as he stumbled backwards. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” he stared at grey eyes. “I… I thought I heard,” _someone,_ “something.”

“There’s no one here but us, Starrk-san.”

“I know.” But he couldn’t help shivering slightly. The sheer evil and wrath of those voices… He could barely feel the chill of winter when it came a few months ago, but now he was cold all over.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

**_Food… Shinigami… FOOD!_ **

Starrk’s entire body _jerked_. He would have fallen flat on his face if not for Kyouraku’s steadying hand on his shoulder.

“I might just be going completely insane,” he muttered.

“Maybe you’ve just been cooped up indoors for so long,” Kyouraku said lightly, though his eyes were still narrowed in obvious concern. “Boredom can do funny things to a mind.”

But Starrk wasn’t bored. He was the furthest thing from bored.

“Maybe,” he said. Shaking his head hard, he pulled away from Kyouraku, staring at a random spot on the wall. There was an odd stain on it. “It’s probably nothing. You’re right, I’m probably just bored out of my mind.” He was speaking too fast and his smile felt strained, but he hoped that Kyouraku wouldn’t pursue the subject. “I’ll meet you at the Sixth Division?”

Kyouraku looked at him for a moment before he nodded. “Alright.”

“Please…” Starrk licked his lips. “Please don’t worry about me, taichou-san. I’m sure it’s just my imagination.”

Even though his imagination had never pulled anything like this. Even though his imagination could never create voices, not even when there was only him and Lilynette in the desert and he would give anything to hear another voice aside from theirs.

Starrk averted his eyes, and fled the room using _sonido_ even before Kyouraku could say a word.

He tried not to think about how hauntingly familiar those voice sounded. 

***

“Do you think it’s something worth worrying about, Ukitake?” Shunsui asked mournfully, staring into the depth of his sake dish.

“Which part?” Ukitake raised one dark eyebrow. “The fact that Starrk-san might be hallucinating voices, or that he clearly didn’t want to tell you the details about it?”

Shunsui sighed deeply, knocking back the alcohol. “Both, I suppose,” he said, though he knew that Ukitake would realise that he was far more bothered about how Starrk still didn’t trust him after the months they had spent together. He hadn’t even gotten the Arrancar to call him by his _name_ yet.

Sighing again, he looked out of the winter. The mid-spring night was cool and fresh, and the moonlight slid across the waxy surfaces of the new leaves, making them shine like the still waters of a lake.

“He’s stopped flinching away whenever I try to touch him,” he said quietly. “He doesn’t even tense anymore unless I really try my utmost to sneak up on him.” Which he hadn’t tried again after nearly getting a Cero to the face. The thing had blown out a wall, and Nanao-chan had cut his sake expenses to pay for the repairs.

“That’s some progress, but…”

He shook his head. “I know that Aizen is rotting away in the Muken,” in eternal loneliness with no one allowed to visit him. “Still, it sometimes feels like he is still lingering, like a demonic spirit, right over Starrk-san’s shoulder.”

“Is a few months really that difficult to endure for a man who has lived for a thousand years?” Ukitake took a sip of his tea.

“I see him every single day, Ukitake,” Shunsui said, knowing he was whining. “It’s getting so _difficult_ for me to not simply reach out to _take_ what I want.”

Ukitake hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose this experience will teach you patience when it comes to your impulses, if nothing else.”

“When did Starrk-san become a lesson for me?” he grumbled, tugging off his straw hat to drag fingers through his hair.

Reaching over the table, Ukitake bopped him on the top of his head. “That’s not I said and you know it,” he frowned.

Shunsui opened his mouth to deny him, but he was interrupted when a hell butterfly fluttered into the room. Both of them stared blankly at it.

_Ukitake-taichou and Kyouraku-taichou, please report immediately to Sokyouku Hill for an emergency meeting._

“An… emergency meeting?” Ukitake asked, surprised. “At this time of the night?”

Shunsui’s instincts were suddenly screaming inside his head, warning him this announcement might just be the prelude to terrible danger. He blinked.

But the hell butterfly wasn’t finished yet.

_Please ensure that Coyote Starrk and Lilynette Gingerbuck will be present as well_. __  
  
“What?” Their voices rang out as one, staring at the hell butterfly. But the tiny black insect didn’t seem inclined to give any answers, because it immediately flew back out of the window again.

Ukitake’s brows furrowed. “What would Genryuusai-sensei want with Starrk-san and Lilynette-chan _right now_?”

“I have no idea,” Shunsui dragged a hand through his hair. “But Ukitake… I have a bad feeling about this.”

His friend’s eyes on him suddenly narrowed. If there was anyone who fully trusted Shunsui’s ‘bad feelings’, it was this man. 

“Well,” he shook his white-haired head. “I suppose we’ll have to obey.”

Shunsui sighed. “Starrk-san isn’t going to be pleased to be woken up.”

***

Starrk could barely concentrate on what was going on, and he didn’t even have the excuse of having just been awoken this time. Contrary to Kyouraku’s expectations, he wasn’t asleep when the Captain came to fetch him.

Everything happened so quickly: the appearance of the First Division lieutenant, that strange man, the Seventh Division’s Captain being attacked by his own zanpaktou… The Shinigami were all yelling around him, in surprise, in shock, as their swords refused to release on command. 

He could see and hear all the events, but he felt as if he was trapped in a red-filmed bubble. The Hill, the Shinigami… they were all tinged with blood, and he couldn’t even hear them properly. His head was filled with other voices: terrible, terrifying voices, screaming and screaming for him to _let them out_. He wished he could, he really wished he could, but he didn’t know how.

And he knew, somehow, that letting the voices out would just _not_ be a good idea.

“It’s quite simple,” the stranger was saying as Starrk tried his best to concentrate on what was going on. “You zanpaktou are no longer with you. I freed them from you Shinigami.”

Explosions happened in the distance. More shouting of disbelief… Starrk’s head _hurt_. He pressed his hands hard over his ears. Why was he here? This was the problem of the Shinigami, wasn’t it? What was he doing here? Why had he been—

“Starrk-san!” There was a hand on his arm… two hands, on both arms. Starrk looked up, knowing that his eyes probably looked wild. He wondered, fleetingly, if his eyes looked red.

Ukitake and Kyouraku were on both sides of him. Kyouraku leaned in.

“I’m sorry to ask this of you while you are obviously in pain, but… will you retrieve your and Lilynette-chan’s swords from my Division? You know where I keep them.”

Starrk’s breath hitched in his throat. He stared at the two Captains. 

“You heard what he said,” Ukitake said urgently, jerking his head towards the stranger. “The zanpaktou of the _Shinigami_ have been freed. If that is true, Starrk-san, then you and Lilynette-chan are our only line of defence.”

Right. He was Arrancar, not Shinigami. He should… he should still be able to release, to fight against whatever threat that was here.

“I…” he swallowed hard. The screaming was getting louder by the second, but he forced himself to nod. “Alright.”

“Thank you, Starrk-san.”

He shook his head, “Don’t thank me yet.” 

Moving into _sonido_ , he arrived back to the Eighth Division in a single second. He rushed towards Kyouraku’s office immediately, nearly ripping apart the door of the broom closet as he took out his and Lilynette’s swords. 

He stared at them. Perhaps what the Captains said was true, but he couldn’t help but feel dread. This was a bad idea, he couldn’t think of any reason why this would be a good idea… But, somehow, he couldn’t trust his own judgment anymore. Even now, his hands were trembling on the sheathed blade as the voices screamed and screamed and _screamed_ in his head.

Surely he was going absolutely insane.

Taking a deep breath, he darted back towards the Hill, arriving back at the same spot, right between Kyouraku and Ukitake. He found Lilynette and tossed her _wakizashi_ at her before he looked forward again.

The stranger was laughing, hands spread out. “Behold! The true forms of the zanpaktou you thought you owned!”

Two hands gripped his wrists just as a whole flood of _creatures_ appeared on the Hill by _shunpo_. He stared at them, mouth dry, barely feeling it even as the Captains’ reiatsu pulsed into his restraints. The carved stones dropped onto the ground, and Starrk wondered, briefly, madly, if anyone even noticed the sudden rush of power that, even now, made the insides of his skin itch.

Likely not; they were all distracted by the sight of even more creatures – was that a woman with _cat ears_? – walking past them, heading towards the stranger.

**_LET ME OUT_ **

Starrk fell on his knees, clapping his hands on his ears. Beside him, he heard Lilynette choke on a scream as she did the same. He knew she heard it too: heard the voices as they grew stronger and louder with every second; heard the thirst for blood, for death; heard the rage and malevolence that permeated every syllable whether or not they could distinguish one from another. 

“My name is Muramasa,” the stranger’s voice rang out, barely piercing through the chaos in Starrk’s mind. “Tonight brings the end of Shinigami rule. From now on, the zanpaktou will rule over the Shinigami!”

“Starrk-san!” Kyouraku was grabbing him. Out of the corner of his tear-glazed eyes, Starrk watched as Ukitake scoop up Lilynette. The ground was shaking... or was it really? He wasn’t even sure anymore. He could barely see anything beyond the dark spots crowding into his vision.

Kyouraku’s warmth was suddenly gone from his side, and Starrk heard, as if from far away, his voice asking for the whereabouts of the old man, the Captain-Commander. His hand groped blindly for support, and he leaned hard against Ukitake as he pushed himself to his feet. 

“Starrk…” Lilynette’s voice was strangled with pain. “Starrk… we have to do it.”

The malice wasn’t just in Starrk’s head anymore. It was all around him, coming from the oddly-shaped creatures. They were going to attack.... and Starrk knew that, without their zanpaktous as weapons, the Shinigami might as well be helpless.

He had to do something. He had to help.

Glancing at Lilynette, he nodded shakily as he drew his sword. “Let me go first,” he said.

Lilynette looked at him and nodded. “Alright.”

Taking a deep breath, he snuck a glance at Ukitake, only to realise that the Captain wasn’t paying any attention to him. He was frowning deeply in the direction of the stranger… what had been said while Starrk was occupied with the voices in his head? What had he missed?

No, there was no time for that now. He would ask later… and tried to reassure himself that there would be a later.

“Kick about, Los Lobos!”

Nothing happened: no burst of power, no disappearance of half of his sight, no wolves by his side or guns in his hands.

Starrk blinked. Something _did_ happen: he could hear his own thoughts. The voices had disappeared.

Before he could even think of breathing a sigh of relief, he heard them again. From _outside_ his own head.

But the voices weren’t screaming anymore. They were _howling_ – raw, angry, feral – all the same thing, hundreds of voices joined together.

**_FOOD… SHINIGAMI… FOOD!_ **

His eyes went wide.

Oh, _no_.

***

Jyuushirou’s head was spinning slightly. He wanted to focus on the fact that Genryuusai-sensei had been _trapped_ by his and Kyouraku’s and Unohana’s zanpaktou, but he couldn’t; not when there were so many of the _other_ Captains’ zanpaktou attacking all of them. He hoped that Starrk in his resurreccion would be about to contain most of them until they could figure out what was going on…

But there was no roar of power beside him. Instead, there was only the howling of wolves… of _Hollows_. Jyuushirou’s eyes widened when he saw the literally _hundreds_ of wolves appear in front of him. All of them had grey fur crackling with blue, and their reiatsu felt horribly, horribly familiar.

Perhaps relying on Starrk’s release had been an ill-conceived idea.

Jyuushirou didn’t have time to dwell on that thought. One of the wolves was sniffing in the air, and its red eyes suddenly snapped towards him.

**_SICK ONE, WEAK ONE. MINE!_ **

****It _leapt_ towards him, disappearing in mid-air. Jyuushirou’s hand went to his sword, but before he could draw it, he was knocked completely off of his feet, landing on the ground.

There was something warm dripping onto his face. He wiped at it, annoyed, and his eyes widened when he realised that it was blood…. Starrk’s blood.

Starrk, who was standing over him, the tendons of his neck standing out from how hard he was gritting his teeth; Starrk, who had an _arm_ in the wolf Hollow’s mouth, and the beast’s fangs were sank deep into his flesh, the corners of its mouth stained with red.

Jyuushirou knew how strong Starrk’s hierro was. When he was ill a few weeks back during winter, his reiatsu had dipped until the Arrancar literally could not feel his touch on his skin. But the wolf was biting through his flesh as if the hierro was nothing… Perhaps because it _was_ nothing.

His thoughts were broken off for the second time in as many minutes when Lilynette screamed.

“Starrk!” Her single eye was wide, and she gripped tight onto her sword. “Kick about, Los Lobos!”

“LILYNETTE, STOP!” 

But Starrk was too late – the sounds of the howling grew exponentially louder, and the wolves at the foot of the cliff Muramasa – if that was really his name – had _doubled_. 

Jyuushirou scrambled to his feet just as Starrk kicked out, his foot slamming into the wolf that had its arm in its grasp. He winced as he heard the sound of flesh tearing off of bone as the creature reluctantly let go, spittle and blood flying through the air as it fell backwards. It twitched before standing up again.

He could practically see pieces of muscle hanging off of Starrk’s radius bone. But the Arrancar didn’t seem to even _notice_.

“Taichou-san.” Jyuushirou blinked. “Are you alright?”

Those grey-blue eyes were fixed on him, and the concern was absolutely sincere.

“I’m unharmed,” he reassured quickly. “But your arm…”

Starrk glanced at it. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, and Jyuushirou reached out, an offer to heal him – to at least _attach the muscle back to the bone_ – on his tongue before Starrk slammed him back down onto the ground.

“Look out!” That was Kyouraku’s voice.

“CERO!”

As Jyuushirou’s watched, a huge ball of blue light clashed against the Abarai’s – or was it Zabimaru’s? – familiar red Hikotsu Taihou. The two colours pressed against each other hard, turning the skies into slices of alternating light, before the blue yawned and utterly swallowed the red before the entire thing exploded right into Hihio Zabimaru’s skeletal face.

In the brief silence that followed, Jyuushirou was aware that every single pair of eyes on the Hill was on Starrk. Even the wolves were silent. 

Slowly, Jyuushirou picked himself up from the floor, drawing his sword as he stood. Even if he couldn’t release it like the other Captains, it could still be used as a weapon.

“H’oh. I admit, I took a gamble with you, but you’re a rather interesting thing, Arrancar.”

Starrk didn’t say a word, only staring with narrowed eyes at Muramasa. Jyuushirou could almost hear the drip-dripping of his blood onto the ground.

Then the enemy swept his arm outwards. “All of you, follow your instincts!”

The wolves reared back, making to leap. Out of the corner of his eyes, Jyuushirou saw Lilynette begin to move, and he made a grab for her only for his hand to meet empty air.

“Kuchiki!” she yelled, and Jyuushirou blinked again when he saw that Lilynette’s _wakizashi_ was now wedged between the teeth of one wolf that was inches from tearing out Kuchiki’s throat. 

“Lily- Lilynette!” Kuchiki shouted, her large eyes made even larger than usual with shock at the sight. Lilynette was even smaller and slighter than she was, but she seemed to have no trouble at all holding the Hollow back. 

“Get back,” Lilynette hissed. As Kuchiki stumbled backwards, she slammed her head into the Hollow’s mask. Bone smacked against bone, and the beast backed away, growling still in that strange, echoing voice that sounded both human and animal, both male and female.

Lilynette rushed forward, kicking the beast hard enough to send it back, crashing against its fellows. She leapt towards them, and Jyuushirou’s eyes widened as he watched her use one of the Hollows as a stepping stone to jump, heading straight upwards.

“Oy, you stupid wolf-bastards! You fuckturd Hollows!” She stood in mid-air, waving her sword around. Jyuushirou allowed himself one tiny wince for her language.

She pulled an absolutely ridiculous face. “You want my body, don’t you?” As everyone watched, she took her sword and slashed it down her arm. Blood welled up immediately, staining the skin red. “You want to eat me _all_ up, don’t you?”

“I’m going to kill that girl,” Starrk muttered, and the comment was so sudden, so unexpected, that Jyuushirou felt a laugh burst out of him.

**_SHE’S THE WEAK ONE_ **

**_WE’LL KILL HER FIRST_ **

The wolves spoke with an amalgation of a hundred voices, speaking in chorus, echoing loud enough to make the very air itself shake. Lilynette’s eyes widened.

“Oh shit,” she said.

Starrk disappeared from beside Jyuushirou, appearing by Lilynette’s side as if he teleported. He crashed a fist onto her mask fragment. “You really didn’t think that through, did you.”

“Shut up! I’ll see you do better!”

Raising his mangled arm, Starrk faced the literal hoard of wolves. He _beckoned_ at them like they were a group of recalcitrant children. Jyuushirou stifled the urge to laugh, because the beasts did look incredibly menacing as they growled as one.

“How the hell is that better?! You look like a pervert, Starrk!”

“How do I look— never mind that! Go!”

With that, Starrk shoved at Lilynette’s shoulder, and she disappeared. Jyuushirou blinked when he saw Starrk turn towards Kyouraku; from here, he could barely see the Arrancar mouth _I’m sorry_ before he, too, vanished.

What could Starrk be apologising for? 

The wolves were howling as they gave chase, the huge number of them forming an extremely long trail of grey and electric blue. At the moment, he couldn’t help but worry for the two Arrancar, especially Lilynette: no matter how powerful Starrk was, he was up against a literal army, all of whom could hurt him. How could he protect Lilynette against all of them?

“Someone really needs to teach those two about appropriate timing for comedy,” Otoribashi sighed right next to Jyuushirou’s shoulder. “They completely _murdered_ the tension of this scene. Look at our poor, dear villain of this round.”

Jyuushirou looked. Their newest threat looked rather stupefied as he stared after the direction where Starrk, Lilynette, and their dangerous entourage had disappeared off to. His mouth was slightly open.

Chuckling, Jyuushirou shook his head. “I believe that same person should teach you about the the appropriate time to appreciate the artistic value of a scene, perhaps?”

Otoribashi grinned, flipping a lock of hair away from his face. “There is nothing he could teach me. I already know that it is _always_ the time to appreciate the artistic value of a scene.”

“Even in the midst of a battle?”

The sound of the zanpaktous’ various weapons clashing against bare, unreleased steel resounded around them.

“Especially then.”

“Well,” Jyuushirou smiled slightly. “It seems that I have the chance to test your word on that.”

They joined the fray.

***

“This sucks.”

Starrk sighed, dropping his face into his palm. “I know. Shut up already.”

The two of them were hidden up on one of the trees near the Thirteenth Division’s barracks. Their wolves – because there were no doubts that they were _theirs_ – were prowling around the area, so many that the entire forest was literally covered with them. Starrk really, really hoped that there was no one taking a midnight stroll or anything that would have them walking around the area.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging through the strands.

“Oy,” Lilynette nudged him. “Is your arm okay?”

Looking down at the mangled flesh, he shrugged. “It’ll heal,” he said. At Lilynette’s uncertain look, he sighed. “It’s not as if you haven’t seen worse.”

She winced, but nodded.

Back at Las Noches, sometimes he would return from Aizen’s rooms with his flesh literally burnt off to the bone and with the stench of roasting meat clinging onto his clothes. That was one of Aizen’s ‘training methods’ for him, to get him used to the idea of pain and fighting so he would not fear it. Though Starrk had never been sure if the burns were illusionary, the pain had always been real.

This was nothing in comparison.

“Have you come up with a plan yet?” 

Starrk shot his other half an irritable look. “You can think as well, you know.”

“Why? You’re so much better at it.”

Rolling his eyes, Starrk looked down towards the wolves again.

“I think they’re the Hollows we’ve devoured,” he said, barely stifling a shiver at the thought. “If the Shinigami’s zanpaktou were released, then the wolves were released from _our_ zanpaktou. These are the Hollows that are- _were_ part of our soul collection.” 

He looked at her. “Am I right?” She was the one who gave him form, after all; she remembered more.

“Yeah,” Lilynette nodded. She drew her knees up to her chest. Starrk brushed his hand over the hair at the nape of her neck. He knew what she felt; knew that she hated the fact that the two of them might have left Hueco Mundo, but the desert didn’t seem to want to leave them alone.

“We can only distract them like this for only so long,” he continued. “They’re going to succumb to their hunger soon.”

He took a deep breath. “I guess we have to kill them to stop them.”

Lilynette gave him an incredulous stare. ” _That’s_ your plan?” she hissed. “We have been sitting here for ten minutes and your only plan is that we go ‘wahahaha’ and kill them?”

Starrk gave her the same incredulous stare back. “No,” he said slowly. “I just said we kill them. I don’t know where you get the ‘wahaha’ part from.”

“It’s ‘wahaha _ha_ ’,” she corrected.

He opened his mouth. Closed it abruptly. He _wouldn’t_ go into a debate about how many ‘ha’ should be in an evil laugh. He wouldn’t even want to consider _why_ he even knew how an evil laugh was supposed to sound like.

Maybe Lilynette had been spending too much time with Yachiru. He couldn’t think of anyone else from whom she could learn something like that from.

“Do you have anything better?”

She bit her lip. “Maybe we can… just let them go?”

“And let them rampage amongst the Shinigami?”

“No,” she shook her head hard. “Maybe we can open a Garganta, and then lead them all back to Hueco Mundo… Once they’re in Hueco Mundo, we can let them go.”

Starrk glanced down again. “I don’t think so, Lilynette,” he said softly. He wanted to do the same thing too; wanted to not have to kill _and_ to be less powerful at the same time. But… “I don’t think all of them started out as wolves. They’re part of us now, and I don’t think we _can_ let them go.”

“This sucks.”

“You’ve said that.”

“This sucks _balls_.”

He rubbed his knuckles over the top of her mask fragment. “Enough already.”

She pouted at him, but he ignored the small tantrum to stand up, balancing on the branch of the tree. Holding onto the trunk, he looked out: there were fires off in the distance, and he could practically hear the screaming from here. He wanted to help, but… right now, he had a far bigger problem to deal with.

When this was over, he really should apologise to both Captains again. Instead of helping, he just dumped more problems onto the Shinigamis’ plate.

“Are we going to do this together, or are we splitting up?” Lilynette asked.

“Can you handle them on your own?” 

Usually, Starrk was the only one who fought. But Lilynette had her own resurreccion form now, and, even without it, she had been training with Yachiru for months.

She was frowning, actually putting thought into the question. So when she said, “Yeah,” he believed her.

“Let’s go, then.”

They drew their swords in tandem. The sound of steel sliding against steel had the wolves turning their attention on them.

**_YOU WERE HIDING_ **

**_COWARDS_ **

**__**Despite those words, there was no disdain in those red eyes; they weren’t human enough for that. There were only rage and irresistible hunger. They snarled in tandem, raw blue reiatsu running down their mouths in a mockery of drool.

Starrk squashed down the sorrow he felt at the sight; he had done this, and he would finish the job. If he didn’t, then the Shinigami would get hurt, especially the unseated ones. All of these wolves are at least Adjuchas; they would just devour most of the lower Shinigami without any effort.

“Try to kill me, then,” he said, and jumped.

His foot landed on the spine of one wolf, and he instantly stabbed his sword downwards. Skin, muscle, and organs tore apart underneath the blade, and blood flew into the air. The stench of it was thick, and the wolf he had cut tried to howl, tried to turn, but it only tore its own skin and flesh further.

Starrk raised his foot and snapped that spine into half. Then, taking a step forward, he crushed the mask under his heel.

He tried to not think about how weak and glass-like the bones felt, or how deeply the _crack_ wormed into his ears. He tried not to remember Aizen’s rooms in Las Noches. He tried not to remember that Arrancar he killed with his bare hands.

At the corner of his eyes, he could see Lilynette swinging her sword. The wolves were crowding around her even more, heading for the weaker half. Starrk raised his hand, calling power to the forefront of his skin – on his chin, his chest, his palm, on every single fingertip. 

“Cero.”

The beams of light and heat screamed through the air, impacting with the wolves behind Lilynette. 

“Thanks, Starrk!”

Blood splattered everywhere, drenching Lilynette’s pretty, dark green yukata with blood. Starrk made a mental note to advice Ukitake to not lend her any more of those clothes, because she had dirtied almost every single one she had gotten her hands on so far.

Another growl, and Starrk stabbed his sword backwards, catching the wolf aiming for his neck with a sword in his throat. He tore through trachea, jugular, and spine on one side, then the other, before dodging the head as it rolled onto the ground. He wanted to watch to see what happened when one of the wolves was killed, but he was getting attacked by far too many at the same time to even turn his head, much less think.

Was this how his enemies felt when they were faced with his wolves? Maybe he should ask the blond Visored Captain sometime…

No, he needed to stop thinking.

The sound of wolves howling, growling, and snarling were all around him, filling the air. Starrk’s lips drew backwards. He wanted, oddly, to bare his fangs.

That’s ridiculous. He didn’t have any.

Thankfully.

***

Shunsui smacked his head against the table, lifted it up, and smacked it back down again.

“I know you have plenty of intelligence to spare, Kyouraku,” Ukitake said, sounding far too amused. “But you should stop trying to erase it that way.”

“I’m not trying to make myself more stupid,” Shunsui grunted. He smacked his head hard again.

Then, lifting his head up, he dragged a hand through his hair. There was now an insistent throbbing at the back of his eyes, but he expected that… and it served well enough for his purpose.

“What are you doing, then?” Ukitake sounded mildly curious.

Instead of answering, Shunsui looked out of the window. The sky was turning purple and orange with the approaching dawn, and he wished he had the mindset right now to appreciate the sight instead of only using it as a distraction.

“Trying to focus.”

Ukitake’s hand smacked the back of his head. Shunsui watched mournfully as his straw hat fell to the ground.

“Stop fretting over Starrk-san,” his friend told him severely.

“You’re fretting over Lilynette-chan as well,” Shunsui accused him.

Shaking his head, Ukitake sighed. “I only worry over her as much as I do Kuchiki and the rest of my Division,” he said, running a hand through his white hair. “I lost Sentarou and Kiyone during the first rush, but you don’t see me running around being horribly worried.” He raised an eyebrow. “And neither of them is nearly as powerful as Starrk-san.”

Shunsui sighed, dragging a hand through his long tail of hair. “It’s not his physical safety I’m worried about,” he said. Looking at Ukitake, he tapped a finger over the side of his head. “It’s up here.”

“What do you mean, Kyouraku?”

He was about to answer when there was a knock on the door. Shunsui turned to see Retsu-senpai standing at the doorway. She bowed slightly when their attention turned towards her.

“Kyouraku-taichou, Ukitake-taichou,” she nodded to them both. “I believe there is someone out there that you would like to see. Will you come with me?”

Exchanging a glance with Ukitake, Shunsui nodded.

“Of course.”

The Fourth Division’s barracks was filled with the pained groans and moans of the injured. Shunsui pulled his hat down over his eyes, using it as a shield against the sight of all the gaping skin and open wounds. Not for the first time, he truly admired Retsu-senpai for being able to deal with this every single day. 

“Here.”

He looked up at the soft voice. Standing at the entrance to the barracks was a figure that looked like he took a shower in blood and gore before he added some splinters of bone as decoration. He held two bodies over his shoulders, and, as Shunsui watched, he lowered them down onto the stretcher with a gentleness that belied his terrifying appearance. 

“Sentarou! Kiyone!” Ukitake gasped, rushing forward. 

The two Third Seats stirred, bleary eyes fixing upon Ukitake. “Captain…” Kiyone murmured. “I’m so glad to see that you’re alright.”

Kotsubaki tried to scoff, but coughed halfway through the sound. “I’m even gladder to see he’s alright, Kotetsu.”

Blinking, Ukitake stared at his subordinates for a moment before he laughed. “Well, if you two can still bicker, you’re going to be just fine.”

“They’re not that hurt, taichou-san,” the blood-drenched figure said, and Shunsui’s eyes widened at the familiar form of address only one person used. But surely it couldn’t be…

The man pulled off one dark red glove, revealing the tattooed, gothic _one_ on the back of his hand. He used the cloth to wipe over his eyes, and Shunsui found himself stumbling forward when the blood clear enough for him to notice the three lines that slashed down from one side of Starrk’s face to the other.

He gripped the man by the forearms, barely remembering at the last moment to be careful with the left – the last he saw it, it was a mauled thing with the flesh hanging off the bone. But now it seemed to feel oddly solid under his hand.

“Taichou-san,” Starrk greeted.

Shunsui swallowed at the sight of those grey-blue eyes: they looked tired and so strangely _empty_.

Before he could say a word, Starrk’s attention had already turned to Ukitake. “I found those two in your Division headquarters,” he said softly. “They were protecting some of your other subordinates from… from my wolves.” He looked physically pained when saying that. “I managed to get them before they were completely overwhelmed, but… they have been fighting for a long time.”

“Their injuries are mostly minor,” Retsu-senpai murmured from where she was kneeling over the two Third Seats. “The primary problem is the drain in their reiatsu… I believe they would be back in fighting condition in a few hours.”

She turned dark eyes to Starrk. “Your injuries seem far more severe, Starrk-san.”

Now that she mentioned it… Shunsui took a step back, not letting go of Starrk’s arms as he looked the man over. The kosode and hakama – originally light grey, to distinguish him from the Shinigami – barely clung onto his skin with the stickiness of drying blood. There were rips everywhere, revealing the claw marks underneath, still bleeding sluggishly. Shunsui’s breath stuttered in his throat when he noticed one set of three that went from Starrk’s collarbone down to his hip.

“Please don’t bother,” Starrk was saying. “I’m alright. I’m healing faster with… with more of my wolves that I kill.” He tugged at his arms before turning wry eyes to Shunsui.

“Can I have my hands back, taichou-san?”

Shunsui forced himself to chuckle even as alarm bells were ringing at the back of his mind. Instead of letting go fully, he took a small step back, using one hand to pull away Starrk’s ruined sleeve.

The limb didn’t look anywhere near healed. The flesh was raw and new, with a thin, transparent layer of skin that barely managed to cover the pulsing muscle and nerves beneath. 

“If this is your definition of ‘alright’, Starrk-san,” Shunsui finally said. “I don’t want to know what you mean by ‘injured’.”

Something odd flashed across Starrk’s eyes in that moment before the lids shuttered.

“I’m alright,” he repeated. “Any healing done to me will only be a waste of time and energy you can use on someone far more deserving.”

Before Shunsui could even say a word in protest, Ukitake interrupted him.

“Starrk-san, where is Lilynette-chan?”

This time, the emotion flashing across Starrk’s eyes was far easier to read: guilt.

“We were split up after we left the forest,” he said, turning away to stare at the wall. Shunsui had learned long ago that this was one of Starrk’s avoidance tactics, and he wished that Ukitake would just stop with the questions even though he knew the reasons behind them.

“The wolves… they were starting to attack the Shinigami. It’s… it’s what Hollows do: they go after the weak ones, and the wolves are all Adjuchas, so the unseated Shinigami are no fight for them.

“Starrk-san…” Shunsui tried.

The words tumbled from Starrk’s lips like an endless torrent. His eyes were wide, staring emptily into space. “I can’t… I can’t let them just _kill_ , so I went after them to _stop_ them, and then the next time I look, Lilynette was gone. She was just _gone_ and I can’t find her anywhere. She said she’ll be alright but I lost her. I _lost_ her…”

Shunsui let go of Starrk’s arm only to grip him tightly by the shoulders, forcing Starrk to turn, to look at _him_.

“Starrk-san!”

Starrk looked at him, wild-eyed, and Shunsui gentled his tone. “Starrk-san, I’m sure Lilynette-chan is fine. Even if she can’t fight against the wolves well, she knows how to climb trees, right?”

“Trees?” Starrk echoed. He looked lost for a moment before his eyes ( _thankfully_ ) focused, and he nodded slowly. “She… she knows how to climb trees. The little pink-haired girl… Yachiru… she taught her.”

Shunsui smiled encouragingly. He let his thumbs stroke over Starrk’s shoulders, sliding down his biceps. “I don’t think the wolves know how to climb trees,” he said, and hoped that it was true. “And Lilynette knew how to hide if she’s overwhelmed.”

He watched as Starrk took a deep breath. “They… they can’t climb. We hid… in a tree before.”

“Then Lilynette-chan is safe,” he soothed. “Why don’t you stay here a little and let Retsu-senpai heal you?”

“I can’t,” Starrk shook his head hard, squeezing his eyes shut. “The wolves… they’ll still be hunting. I have to stop them. I have to find Lilynette.”

Then, before Shunsui could even say a single word, Starrk pushed himself out of his grasp and disappeared in a burst of _sonido_.

Shunsui stared at the space where he used to be blankly.

“Starrk-san seems to be exhibiting elements of shock,” Retsu-senpai said quietly. Shunsui barely kept back the smart remark he wanted to make – something in the same vein as _no shit_ – by virtue of both respect and self-preservation. He had once heard Abarai suggest rather fearfully that Retsu-senpai could castrate a man by just one look, and though he knew that wasn’t true, she certainly could make him _feel_ similarly.

He sighed instead, staring down at his hands. Rubbing his fingertips together, he watched the dried flakes of red as they drifted to the ground.

“Ukitake,” he said. “Do you see why I was worried now?”

“Mm,” his best friend said. “My apologies, Kyouraku.”

“Eh?” Shunsui blinked, lifting his head. “What for?”

Ukitake shrugged at him. “For doubting you,” he said softly. “And for asking about Lilynette-chan.”

Shunsui snorted. “Yes, you do have to apologise,” he said dryly. He allowed Ukitake to wallow in his guilt for just three seconds. “For teaching Starrk-san to apologise for things that are not his fault.”

“What?”

“Who else could he have learned it from?” Shunsui arched an eyebrow. “I _certainly_ don’t do that.”

Ukitake stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing.

Allowing that sound to wash over him, Shunsui stared out of the still-open doorway. Retsu-senpai’s subordinates were carrying more of the injured in even as the sun crawled up the horizon and the orange light started turning yellow and blue.

Though he wanted more than anything to chase after Starrk, he knew he shouldn’t. This time, he had nothing to do with practicality.

A hundred years or so ago, he told a tiny Nanao-chan that it was part of a Captain’s job to believe in and wait patiently for his subordinates. Starrk wasn’t one of his subordinates, but Shunsui would wait and believe in him, nonetheless.

He had seen it in those dark, wild eyes: these were demons Starrk had to fight on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _did_ say that the plot is moving faster, right?


	11. Howling Ghosts, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The differences between a monster and a man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Part of this chapter is in Gin’s POV. And Gin is _dark_ in the situation I’ve put him in, not to mention creepy as usual. Also, violence and blood, as typical of the manga and the previous chapter.  
>  **Notes:** I cut the chapter into two because it was way too long. I’m posting them _both_ , so don’t worry, I’m not leaving you with a cliffhanger. Also, title is co-opted from _King and Lionheart_ by Of Monsters and Men. I got tired of thinking of my own.

Rukia had grown used to the sinking dread of disappointment after all this time.

She chanted the incantation for Hado 33: Blue Fire, Crash Down almost on automatic, and swallowed back another bout of regret-bile when she saw the wall of ice that rose up to protect Sode no Shirayuki. 

“Are you surprised?” her sword asked, eyes cold. “You have always underestimated me.”

No, she hadn’t. Rukia had known, even before she came here, that there was no way whatsoever that she would be able to win. Despite her strength with kido, she had always depended so much on her sword.

Yet she had to try anyway, because she simply could not believe that the beautiful sword that was part of her would be so cruel as to try to kill innocents just because she could.

Her thoughts skittered to a halt when Sode no Shirayuki moved again, appearing behind her. Rukia dodged the blow, feeling the strength of the white blade against the unreleased form of the same sword in her hands. She dodged the ice, but she couldn’t help but stare at Sode no Shirayuki once more.

There was a particular taste of ice that Rukia knew very well. Something half-sweet on the tongue, if only she could pin it down and chase it past the initial numbness; something pure like the cleanest waters from a mountain spring; something like that way ice danced upwards, reaching for the skies before disappearing, much like the sound of a sigh.

The only word Rukia could ever find for the taste of ice was ‘white’.

And she was looking at white now: white hair, white kimono, white ribbon, white hilt, white blade pointed straight at her throat.

Her sword was beautiful and wanted her dead. Her sword was beautiful and accused Rukia of keeping her trapped when all she wanted to do was for them to grow stronger together, to make Byakuya-nii-sama proud.

“When you are pondering on your various failures,” Sode no Shirayuki’s silk-like voice murmured behind her, “your reiatsu wavers.”

Rukia’s eyes widened. She raised her sword to try to defend herself, to cut through the incoming ice if nothing else…

And she suddenly found herself being shoved to the side. Landing hard on her shoulder, Rukia gasped, clutching tightly to her sword as she stared at the spot where she had been standing. There was… there was someone _within_ that tower of ice.

Blue light burst out, bright and hot. Rukia covered her eyes, watching through a shadowed gaze as the ice cracked and shattered outwards.

“Goddammit, but you’re really fucking irritating for such a pretty face.”

There was only one person with that kind of mouth on her. Rukia stared.

Lilynette had ice crystals encrusted onto her hair; the very same hair which Rukia _knew_ was supposed to be green but was now more dark red, the red of old blood, with slight green streaks. She was covered in blood, some of which still fresh enough to freeze into bits of ice that flaked off of the strands when she turned around to look at Rukia. Her single eye, usually a light pink colour, was now red as well, as if all the blood on her had seeped through the skin and dyed it.

She walked over to Rukia and extended a hand… or what seemed like a hand. On closer look, it was more like a _paw:_ grey-furred, with dark claws extended from where the nails should be.

Some kind of look must have crossed her face, because Lilynette’s hand dropped back to her side, and she turned away.

“Getting distracted in the middle of battle is going to get you killed, Kuchiki,” she said, raising her sword. 

Rukia’s head suddenly started working again, and she scowled. “What are you doing here? Don’t you know better than to interfere with someone else’s battle?!”

“It looked more like a beatdown than a battle,” Lilynette drawled, looking over her shoulder. But, strangely, not meeting her eyes. “Besides, I’m a Hollow, aren’t I? Your Shinigami honour code doesn’t apply to me.”

There was a niggling thought inside Rukia’s head. In all the time Rukia had known her, which, granted, was only for a few months, Lilynette had _never_ once referred to herself as a Hollow. In fact, she had always scowled or frowned whenever she was called one.

Taking a deep breath – and glancing at Sode no Shirayuki to make sure that her sword wasn’t about to attack – she pushed herself up to stand before she reached out and grabbed Lilynette’s wrist. 

The fur felt oddly warm, and Lilynette’s pulse beat strongly beneath her fingers.

“Listen,” she said, trying to ignore the way Lilynette’s gaze was fixed on their point of contact, “Sode no Shirayuki is _strong_.” She couldn’t help the hint of pride at that; trying to kill her or not, her sword was strong, and beautiful. 

“You won’t be able to win.”

Lilynette smiled – a wide, mischievous thing. She patted Rukia gently on a shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Kuchiki. I’ll leave plenty for you to take care of once I’m done.”

“That’s…” Rukia sputtered. “That’s not what I’m trying to say!”

She was going to protest more, to warn Lilynette that no matter how much she trained, no matter how much time she spent with Yachiru, she wasn’t nearly powerful enough to withstand Sode no Shirayuki’s ice. That one time was just a fluke…

“Second Dance: Tsukishiro!”

Rukia’s eyes widened. She raised her sword, hoping to cleave down the approaching ice, but Lilynette’s hand grabbed onto her shoulder and shoved her backwards.

“Cero!”

The same beam of blue light as before exploded from Lilynette’s chest. It impacted with the ice, shattering it, sending cold crystals raining down around them. Lilynette turned towards her, grinning, and Rukia’s eyes widened.

“LILYNETTE!”

Her warning was already too late. A wolf – a _huge_ wolf, one of the creatures she saw last night – had leapt onto Lilynette and closed its jaw around her head. Rukia stared in mute horror as those teeth sank right into Lilynette’s flesh. Blood flowed down her face, and Rukia _moved_ by instinct, striking outwards to cut off the wolf’s head. She gritted her teeth when her sword met resistance – the spinal column – before she held onto it with both hands and _shoved_.

The beast slumped over, nearly bisected into two from the neck. Rukia nearly dropped her sword and rushed forward, but there was a hand gripping onto her wrist – _Lilynette’s hand_ – before the girl reached up and pushed the wolf’s head away from her face like it was some macabre mask.

“Man,” Lilynette said, rubbing at her face, smearing blood everywhere. “His breath _stinks_.”

“Your…” Was that small, pathetic croak really her voice? “Your _mask_.”

She raised a shaking hand, reaching out, trailing her fingers over the small, hair-line crack in Lilynette’s mask. It was just above the portion of the eyepatch, cutting through the red flame markings and going all around jaggedly, in surely the same pattern as the wolf’s teeth.

_No_ , Rukia thought, surprising herself with the sheer force of the word in her own mind. Like any Shinigami, she knew what a broken mask meant on a Hollow. Arrancar or not, Lilynette was going to die.

The girl didn’t seem concerned, though. She only grinned at Rukia. It was a terrifying expression with the holes across the bridge of her nose and the blood covering half of her face. 

“Are you worried?” She patted her hand. “Don’t be. I’m fine.”

_You have a broken mask_ , she wanted to say. _You’re going to_ die _,_ she wanted to protest. 

Then Lilynette snatched all the protests she wanted to make with her next words.

“I never had anyone worrying about me before,” she said, her smile softening at the edges. “Except for Starrk, but he doesn’t count.

“Thanks. It feels nice.”

Rukia blinked.

It was moments like these, when Lilynette said something unexpectedly mature, that Rukia couldn’t help but wonder just how old she was.

She shook her head to dismiss the thought. This was no time to think about that.

“It’s perfectly normal to worry about friends,” she huffed, readying her sword. Her eyes darted from side to side, trying to catch sight of more wolves, or even where Sode no Shirayuki had disappeared to. It seemed a little odd that her zanpaktou had simply _vanished_ …

At that very moment, as if to prove to her just how much she could jinx herself just by _thinking_ , everything seemed to explode into motion.

Sode no Shirayuki’s voice, crying out the First Dance; the rabid howling of wolves; the sound of dirt ground tearing beneath their paws… Rukia could barely react, throwing herself out of the way of the rising ice tower just in time to nearly land straight into the open jaw of a wolf.

“CERO!”

Lilynette’s scream cut through the air, nearly sharp enough to shatter the ice shards that Sode no Shirayuki was sending towards Rukia. Blue light sliced through the wolf, exploding its head and splattering blood all over Rukia’s body. Danger averted, she barely had time to land and strike out half-blind towards the ice, shattering it into pieces that landed on her hair and all around her.

She lifted her head just in time to see Lilynette snarl, her face bestial, as she reached up and ripped off the broken part of her mask fragment. With as much casualness as she had pushed off the wolf’s head.

But Lilynette wasn’t disappearing, wasn’t _dying_ ; instead, the air around her thickened with even more reiatsu, and the red of her single iris darkened even further, until it seemed almost black.

Swallowing her distressed shout, Rukia turned around just in time to block Sode no Shirayuki’s strike. She jumped backwards, refusing to allow her sword to push her down onto the ground. Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched as Lilynette practically tore through the wolves with just her bare hands – with just her _claws_ – growling with sheer, near uncontrollable rage all the while. Rukia would wonder why she was so angry, except that she didn’t have time.

“Don’t take your attention off me, Kuchiki Rukia!” Sode no Shirayuki yelled, her mellifluous voice sounding so much less composed now. 

Rukia matched her blow for blow, eyes widening when her gaze met her zanpaktou’s. There was so much resentment there, so much hate… and she swallowed hard before she thought about what she was going to do. 

There was no way around it.

She opened her mouth to tell Sode no Shirayuki her decision when her sword, her beautiful sword, was kicked in the head and fell face down into the dirt.

Lilynette was hunched over, her arms hanging by her side, claws half-curled and twitching slightly. She was covered in even more blood now, panting, and, to Rukia’s senses, she had _changed_ from the girl who was barely powerful enough to be a Lieutenant to one who could give some of the Captains a run for their money in terms of sheer raw reiatsu.

Lifting her head, she gave Rukia a shaky smile. “Are you alright?”

Rukia narrowed her eyes. She looked at Sode no Shirayuki at her feet before she grabbed Lilynette by the wrist, pulling her away from her sword. The Arrancar’s eye – still only one, despite how her mask fragment had been literally halved – widened, and Rukia shook her head.

“Stay out of this,” she said. “This is my battle. I have to fight it alone.”

“Do you…” Lilynette hesitated. “Do you want me to leave, then?”

Badly-hidden loneliness and uncertainty practically shone out from Lilynette’s expression, in her entire body language. Rukia smiled crookedly.

“No, I want you to stay here and watch,” she said, turning away from the girl. “I told you, didn’t I? This is my battle. I’m going to prove to you why.”

Her eyes fixed upon Sode no Shirayuki. The sword had picked herself from the floor already, and was now standing in midair, staring at Rukia with narrowed eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” she began, her voice blending with the sound of Lilynette’s footsteps. “I was so proud of you, thinking that such a beautiful sword belonged to me.”

She would never be a Shinigami again after this. But Rukia knew long ago that she should solve problems just by being herself, and doing what was true to her.

She would set Sode no Shirayuki free.

How could she do otherwise when she knew exactly how it felt to be a prisoner?

***

Morning. The sun rose high in the skies, piercing through the window, creating slices of light on the bed where the curtains had been left open.

(If he left them closed, he was acting _suspiciously_ , and no one walked near this house anyway.)

He sat up, turning towards the window and looking out. The sight of the burnt buildings had not changed, though the fires had already been put out. Vaguely, he knew he should have done something about those flames; something aside from watching them with glee before heading to bed with flickering shadows dancing around his bed.

But why should he, when he didn’t even know what was going on?

Once, Ichimaru Gin would have been hard pressed to find enough opportunities to admit that on the fingers of one hand. Nowadays, he had more than enough for both hands and his toes beside. The only consolation he had was that his ignorance made for such a good _excuse_.

Slowly, a smile crawled upon his mouth, invasive and subtle like cancer. He rose from the bed and dressed, picking out a white kimono amongst the several identical white kimonos in his wardrobe. This was his uniform now; a paleness that shone in the sunlight and screamed in darkness, declaring his presence: white, like the very incarnation of death; white like Aizen, even though his name had the colour blue in it.

He walked outside into the courtyard. To his left was the Tenth Division (he wondered if Rangiku was awake; if she had even _slept_ the night before, given all that was happening); to his right, a little closer, was the Eleventh.

They chose this small house in between the two because it was uninhabitated, but also because Zaraki Kenpachi’s hatred of him was nearly non-existent – to Zaraki, he was a defanged snake, all venom drained out by actions not Zaraki’s own, and hence he was of little interest. To Hitsugaya… to the tiny Tenth Division Captan…

Gin’s smile grew even wider. Did tiny little Shirou-chan have nightmares about finding his Lieutenant dead one day, with Ichimaru’s bare hand sticking out of her chest?

Maybe one day he would linger in Hitsugaya’s office and drape over Rangiku lounging on the couch… and he would let his hand drift, just so slightly, over her breasts, her heart. Maybe he would catch horror in Hitsugaya’s eyes, and he would laugh and feel alive again.

He had never once claimed to be a good man.

Sometimes he thought about finding a sword, or even a good steak knife, and driving it into his throat. The white of his clothes would show the blood beautifully.

He had never once claimed to be a good man, but he still had some scruples: he would never do that to Rangiku, not when she was the only person who was glad that he wasn’t dead.

Beside him, to his left, a wall exploded.

Gin turned. His eyes opened slightly when he saw the smoke start to _move_ , coalescing into a grey mist aimed straight at his throat. There was only one person who had a power like that—he dove for cover behind a tree, letting the wood explode into chips instead of his skull into fragments. 

“Come out, you stupid bastard!” A voice cried, and Gin blinked when he couldn’t recognise it. “Come out and let me kill you!”

He turned his head. Standing there, framed by smoke, were two women… or, at least, they looked like women. One of them was short and petite, looking more like a young girl, with long hair and a scarf that floated over her shoulders and ended in two large bells with flames licking around the golden metal. The other… the other was looked like the centrefold of some fetish magazine, full curves covered in pink fur and large cat ears popping up from beneath her hair.

Gin cocked his head to the side. He was sure that was Rangiku’s Haineko, but he had never met these two before.

“Who are you?” 

Instead of answer, the girl swung her arms. Gin immediately threw himself backwards, narrowing his eyes even further when he saw the flames that roared above his head. The fire was almost hot enough to set his hair on fire, but he had bigger problems than that.

The spiritual pressure around him was growing, rising, and, given his current state, it wouldn’t take very long before it sent him to his knees.

Not that he was willing to show the two women that. Gin stood up, folding his hands into his sleeves before he looked at the two of them.

“Hinamori-chan’s Tobiume, and Rangiku’s Haineko,” he greeted, inclining his head. “Aah, it’s such a pleasure to meet you two for the first time.”

If Gin was anyone else, he would have balked at the thought of two manifested zanpaktous running around separated from their owners, especially since he knew for a fact that Rangiku still couldn’t bring her zanpaktou out from the inside of her head. 

But Gin _wasn’t_ anyone else, and long years spent by Aizen’s side had taught him to always distrust the idea of the impossble. Whatever conclusion his logic led him to had to be true, no matter how unbelievable it seemed.

The two women looked at him, eyes narrowed. The girl with the bells had to be Tobiume, while the cat-woman was surely Haineko… Then Haineko grinned.

“Good, you figured who we are. Then you can tell the old lady who killed you.”

Grey mist grew around her, and Haineko swung the hilt in her hands. It dove right towards Gin, but Gin was used to the speed of that particular technique after watching Rangiku train. He waited until it was closing around him before he ducked and _ran_ towards the other side of the clearing.

But Tobiume was waiting. She lifted her bells, making to swing, but Gin was faster even without his powers.

Reaching out, he stroked Tobiume’s cheek gently.

“Does Hinamori-chan know that you’re running around trying to kill people?” he asked, breathing out against her skin. “She’ll be so very angry at you, you know.”

Perhaps it might seem suicidally stupid for him to try to provoke someone – or something – who was trying to kill him. But, honestly, Gin couldn’t help himself. Besides, Tobiume and Haineko weren’t trying very hard, and they might just be missing some _incentive._

The sword in the shape of a girl thinned her lips. Bells chimed as she gripped his wrist.

Before she could speak, or even move, a sound ripped through the air: _howling._ Gin’s eyes opened fully when something slammed hard into Tobiume, throwing her off of her feet and bringing Gin down to the ground along with her.

A wolf. A huge wolf, almost as long as Gin was tall, with grey fur and red eyes and a very familiar shade of blue reiatsu running down its fur. A mask of bone wrapped around its head, marked with something that looked almost like stylised red flames. It snarled at Tobiume, baring fangs that had even more blue zigzagging across the sharp white things like drool.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Gin watched as Haineko was surrounded by even more of them. She went down with a cry, trying to swing the hilt of the sword. The grey mist around her cut against the wolves’ fur, making blood rise to the surface, but the beasts didn’t even seem to notice.

Somehow, Gin was absolutely certain that this wasn’t a rescue.

_**WEAK ONE. MINE!** _

_****_Definitely not a rescue.

He struggled against Tobiume’s grip on his wrist, trying to pull it back to fight in some way even though his vision was starting to edge with black from all the wild reiatsu being pumped into the air by the wolves. Tobiume was shouting, pulling at her pinned arms…

A sword crashed, blade-first, into the dirt right beside Gin’s head.

Gin didn’t question its origin. It was the first time in _months_ when he had a weapon so near his reach, and he grabbed it with his free hand. Swinging his entire body, he slammed the blade right in between the wolf’s eyes. Blood splashed on his face, crawling down his neck, and the thing _howled_ – a single voice that seemed to resound with a thousand’s – before it exploded into blue light.

Tobiume’s grip on his wrist had loosened. From shock, most likely, and Gin allowed his usual smile to take over his face.

“It’s not polite to try to eat someone before you even know their name, you know.”

The blue light was going towards the sword, and the thing warmed in his hand. Gin looked at it for a moment before a scream caught his attention.

Haineko was buried underneath a pile of wolves that was slowly growing lesser in number because of one _thing_ that was tearing through them. Gin watched, utterly fascinated, as Starrk – because it couldn’t be anyone other than Starrk, what with the wolves and the blue reiatsu – grabbed the head of one wolf and shattered its mask with his bare hand.

He whistled, long and loud, when Starrk grabbed another beast before he pulled it back and tore out its throat with his _teeth_.

For a brief moment, he regretted that Aizen wasn’t here to see this. Aizen had tried so long and hard to instill some kind of killing instinct in Starrk, and here Starrk was, months after their separation, behaving like the kind of beast that Aizen had believed every single Hollow to be.

Another wolf went down when Starrk drove his hand through its chest. Another one died when an elbow smashed against its head, breaking the mask and the skull beneath it. The very last one had jumped away from Haineko, snarling at Starrk before it leapt towards him, towards its very death as Starrk struck out with one hand and tore out its throat.

Finally, the backyard was emptied of wolves, leaving behind only blood and bits of bone. Not even corpses: when the wolves died – were _killed_ with horrible efficiency – they turned into pure reiatsu that returned to the sword in Gin’s hand. Which meant that… he looked at it, head cocked to the side. 

Hah. He hadn’t even realised that Starrk _had_ a zanpaktou that wasn’t Lilynette.

“Can I have my sword back please?”

Gin lifted his head. The sight that met him sent a cold chill down his spine.

It was not the fact that Starrk was covered in blood; not the grey-furred claws that had replaced human-like hands and nails; not even the fangs that peeked out from that mouth that was stained with red; not even the sheer power that radiate from him, slowly strangling the air in Gin’s throat. 

It was Starrk’s _eyes_ : Gin was used to seeing them half-lidded and lazy, but now they were wide open, and filled with a barely-restrained bestial _hunger_ barely hidden beneath a haunting emptiness that spoke of depths of despair.  
 _  
There’s nothing you can say to make me hate you,_ Starrk had once said, and Gin, recklessly, wanted to test those words.

So he did.

“You don’t need it,” he said. “You look real pretty with those claws and fangs, Starrk-chan. So why don’t you lend me your sword for a while?”

His grin widened even further. “These two are trying to kill me, you know,” he said, nodding towards the two women who were now climbing to their feet. “You wouldn’t like to leave me helpless here, would you?”

Starrk was staring at him, unblinking. Gin went for the final stroke.

“Aizen-taichou would be so disappointed in you if you let me be killed.”

Red. Red was starting to creep into Starrk’s eyes, overwhelming the blue. Gin lifted the sword, bringing it into Starrk’s view of vision before he started to deliberately stroke along the hilt.

Then, as suddenly as it begun, the red was gone. Starrk cocked his head, still staring at him, before he nodded.

“Okay,” he said.

“What?”

“If you need it, you can have it,” Starrk shrugged. “You’re right; I don’t really need it.”

There was nothing but emptiness in that grey-blue gaze. The hunger was gone. Gin sighed – no _fun_ at all, this man – before he threw the sword over to the Arrancar.

“Take it,” he said, waving a hand. He tried not to stumble as he turned around. “I don’t need a thing like that to deal with these two.”

“Why you!” Haineko cried, clearly incensed. “Growl, Haineko!”

Briefly, Gin wondered just why Haineko would need to call her _own_ name in order to activate the sword – weren’t they the same? – before he took a step back. Before he could even dodge, however, Starrk was in front of him, using that irritating, teleportation-like _sonido_.

“Cero.”

The blue light crashed into the incoming grey mist, dispersing them. Gin blinked.

Before he could even say a word, flames came from behind him. Raising an arm, Gin covered his face. He didn’t even bother to dodge, because…

Starrk sent another Cero searing through the air, meeting the flames head on. The blazing blue light swallowed the fire, and the sheer, raw power that surrounded him was like a punch straight into the lungs. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay standing as he looked up and gave Starrk a smile.

“Weren’t you going to leave?”

Starrk turned towards him, empty eyes lingering on his face.

“You said you wanted my sword to fend them off,” he said, voice echoing hollowly. “Since you gave me back my sword, I might as well stay here a little while.”

“Most people would take that to be the clue to leave, you know,” Gin pointed out.

“They want to kill you,” Starrk replied. “And I don’t like seeing people die.”

“You had no problems killing those wolves. They can speak, you know. Aren’t they people?”

Before Starrk could reply, Haineko’s grey mist shot once more towards them. Behind them, Tobiume’s flames rushed forward.

Gin didn’t even bother to move. Either Starrk would defend him, or…

“Hado 33: Red Flame Cannon!” 

His smile widened. He had been waiting for this, really. 

The burst of red kido slammed straight into the oncoming flames.

“Bakudo 9: Disintegration Circle!”

Glowing yellow ropes appeared, one wrapping around Haineko, the other shooting past Gin and Starrk to twine around Tobiume. He watched, a little amused, as the figure behind the smoke _pulled_ , dragging the two manifested zanpaktous into the air before they smashed into each other and dropped onto the ground.

When the smoke cleared, the first thing he heard was a scream.

Hinamori-chan was standing there, a little distance away. She was staring right at Starrk, her hands, tangled in the brilliant threads of her kido, were covering her mouth. Honestly, Gin couldn’t blame her for that reaction… but he _could_ blame her for the way her concentration wavered in that one moment.

Haineko and Tobiume burst out of the kido ropes. They turned to each other, staring to shout, but Gin had someone far more interesting to occupy his attentions.

Rangiku stood beside him, standing on the stump of what used to be a tree. Her eyes were fixed upon Starrk as well, lips parted and horror in her eyes.

Gin waved. “Hello, Rangiku.”

And that was the last of his strength. With all five of them in the same area as he was, their unrestrained reiatsu – in preparation for battle – whipped through the air and into his body, strangling all of the air out of his lungs. Gin fell onto his knees, clawing at his throat, trying to breathe.

A familiar arm wrapped around him.

“What the hell did you do to him, Arrancar?” Ah, that was Rangiku’s fierce voice.

The pressure in the air lessened greatly, enough for him to breathe. He lifted his head, accidentally meeting Starrk’s eyes. And in that moment, he wanted to laugh: the hurt and despair and self-hatred he had so wanted to see, had taunted the Arrancar to see, were right _there_.

And all Gin had to do was to fall to his knees.

How terribly unfair it was that Starrk couldn’t hate him. It was so easy for Gin to despise the man. He wanted to glare at him, but he had shown enough weakness already, so he turned to Rangiku instead.

“You’re so cute when you’re worried about me, Rangiku,” he teased, prodding a cheek with a finger. 

“It was the reiatsu in the air,” Starrk said tonelessly. “It’s too much for him. It should be better now.”

Gin leaned on Rangiku as he got to his feet. He didn’t actually need the help, but Rangiku always liked it when he relied on her, so why not?

Rangiku opened his mouth as if to speak, but she had to make for a grab for her sword when Haineko leaped at her, blade unsheathed. Gin stumbled sideways, and he would have fallen to the ground if not for Starrk’s steadying grip on his shoulders.

“They’re going to fight, so I don’t think you should stay here,” the Arrancar said once Gin was looking at him. “I’ll bring you to the Fourth Division. They should have kido wards there to keep out reiatsu.”

“Gin!” Rangiku had definitely heard. “If you wait for a little while, I can bring you there!”

There it was again, that flash of hurt in Starrk’s eyes before it faded back into emptiness.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” he told her.

Gin laughed. Straightening, he waved a hand. “I’ll just get in your way if I stay, Rangiku,” he said, and it took some effort to keep the bitterness from creeping into his tone. 

Her eyes flickered towards Starrk for a moment before she jumped backwards.

Haineko hissed. “Keep your attention on me, old lady!” she yelled, but Rangiku didn’t even seem to hear.

“Do you trust him, Gin?”

“He’s a puppy,” he shrugged. “Though, he’s usually not as pretty as this.”

Starrk blinked. His gaze flickered down, following Gin’s waving hand before they saw the claws that had replaced his hands. Gin heard the tiny hitch in his breath; felt the shiver that went through his entire frame.

Rangiku hesitated for a moment more before she had to raise her sword to defend herself from Haineko’s next strike. In that moment, Gin pretended to swoon.

It wasn’t that he wanted to go to the Fourth, much less to leave Rangiku here. But he knew that he was useless in a fight, and he really didn’t want Rangiku to get hurt protecting him. Besides, he _knew_ that Rangiku would cry if he ended up injured, and he hated that most of all.

“Alright,” she said, forcing the word out from the reluctance written in her gritted teeth. “I’ll come and visit you later, Gin?”

“I’ll be waiting,” he smiled, because it was true. He hadn’t really been doing much in the past few months _except_ waiting for her.

Starrk turned away from him, presenting his back. Gin blinked, and he laughed a little to himself before he swung his arms around Starrk’s neck and hooked his legs around that lean waist.

“Aren’t you going to carry me like a bride?” he drawled.

“I’d hurt you with my claws,” Starrk said. Gin squeezed his eyes shut as the Arrancar leaped for the rooftop and started to run in the direction of the Fourth.

Silence settled over them, thick and suffocating like a heavy blanket in midsummer. Gin entertained himself by considering the various things he could say to widen the cracks in Starrk’s being. 

“The Shinigami might trust you more if you stop referring to Aizen as a Captain,” Starrk said quietly once they had left the Tenth Division behind.

“You really think so?” Gin asked, letting his voice lilt even more than usual at the question. 

“Isn’t it worth a try?” Starrk paused.

“Mm… But why would I change my habits just to make sure people trust me?”

There was a pause before Starrk shrugged. “You might be less bored that way.”

“Oh?”

“If they trust you more, they might give you something more to do.”

Gin chuckled, raising one hand to pat Starrk’s head gently. “I’m not like you, Starrk-chan,” he said, leaning forward until his words caressed the edge of one ear. He wondered if Starrk could even feel it, given the way the ear was now pointed and covered with fur.

“I don’t go around begging for scraps of affection and acceptance.”

There was just the briefest of pauses. Gin wished he could see Starrk’s face; wished he could see the flash of hurt that was surely there.

“I guess not,” Starrk said eventually, his tone as flat as it had been during the entire conversation. 

How unsatisfactory.

They ran along the rooftops for long moments more, passing through the Ninth and Eighth Divisions. Then the sound of howling ripped through the air, and Starrk’s body beneath his tensed even further. His reiatsu burst outwards, almost strong enough to make Gin dizzy, before it was restrained again.

The Arrancar started running faster.

“You can use _sonido_ , you know,” Gin pointed out. “It’ll save us so much more time.”

Starrk shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Gin couldn’t help it; his shoulders shook as he laughed, the sound cackle-sharp.

“So sweet,” he drawled, patting Starrk’s hair. He didn’t miss the way that Starrk’s entire body tensed at the word, even though he kept running.

“But I don’t want to keep you from your crusade to become a hero, Starrk-chan.”

“I—” Starrk began, and he was so very, very predictable. Gin already knew the words he was swallowing back: _I’m not trying to become a hero_.

“Alright. If you don’t mind.”

Closing his eyes, Gin focused on his own breathing – in, out – as Starrk moved into _sonido_.

Despite his mockery, despite the fact that he only said it to see if Starrk still remembered the terms that Aizen had used for him, Gin honestly did think that Starrk was sweet. If he was a slightly better man, if he _believed_ instead of only _understood_ the kind of codes that the world was run by, he would think that it was terrible, that whatever new situation this was had caused Starrk to turn monstrous on the outside even though he was far less of a monster than Gin himself was.

But he wasn’t.

“We’re here.”

Instead, he simply wished to be there to witness the way Starrk would shatter completely when he realised that people would simply take his current appearance on face value and cut away any and all fragile bonds he had managed to build within the past months. He wondered what kind of face Starrk would make when he was destroyed completely by the very people whose friendship he wished so desperately to have.

Maybe he should take that advice. 

It might just be the final nail in the coffin for Starrk’s mind if he knew that Gin listened to him just to watch his downfall.

***

Shunsui looked over the reports from the members of his Division with a slight frown.

It wasn’t a well-known fact that, as the Captain of the Eighth, Shunsui was unofficially the Captain-Commander’s spymaster. His Division’s duties were primarily to figure out the possibilities of threats before they even occurred, and their secondary duties make sure that no crimes or lawbreaking occurred in Seireitei. This was partly why he preferred to have women – they were usually far more talented at subterfuge, and people usually talked to and around them more.

The reports he was now reading were all less than a week old. Hitsugaya came out of _Jinzen_ frowning and with a strange look on his face. Rangiku-chan was reported by one of his Shunsui’s Division members to be yelling at her zanpaktou for being uncooperative. Isane-chan was overheard telling Retsu-senpai that Itegumo had been unresponsive lately. And Shunsui remembered the wound on Kuchiki’s hand during his practice bout with Abarai, the very morning before the attack occurred. 

Setting the papers down, he tipped his hat back, staring out of the window as he frowned. Even gathered together, the reports didn’t seem to warrant any sort of alarm. It wasn’t uncommon for zapaktou to be in fits of pique when it came to their owners. For someone to be able to sink their claws so deep into them that it reached their inner worlds without showing any outward sign… it was disturbing.

Muramasa. The name rang a slight bell in his mind, a memory from long ago… Given the look of the man in comparison to the other manifested zanpaktous, Shunsui suspected that he was a zanpaktou. He had to be.

“Nanao-chan!”

His Lieutenant came to the door, a slight frown creasing her forehead. Shunsui was tempted to tease her for it, but the situation right now was far too serious. 

“Will you look at the record books for me, my lovely Nanao-chan?” Alright, he couldn’t resist that. Neither could he resist the slightly lecherous smile. “Look through the records of the seated officers, Lieutenants, and Captains of the past hundred years for a man whose sword is named Muramasa.”

Nanao-chan looked at him for hesitantly before she nodded. “I will, Captain.”

Ah, he was scaring her by being far too serious. Shunsui chuckled to himself, sliding out from behind the desk. He walked towards her and leaned in close, letting his grin widen.

“You’re looking particularly breath-taking today, my lovely Nanao-chan~” he sing-songed. “Did you pretty yourself up just to ease the old, burdened heart of your dear Captain? –Ow!”

She smacked him on the head with clipboard, whirling away with a huff. But the tension lines around her eyes were gone, and Shunsui smiled to himself even as he rubbed the side of his head.

His Nanao-chan was absolutely brilliant, but she still couldn’t get used to all the different facets of him even though she had known him since she was a child; perhaps _because_ she had known him since then. Lisa-chan had been so much better at handling his different demeanours, knowing just _how_ to deal with him with different masks of her own. But Nanao-chan was far too serious, far too _honest_ , and if Shunsui wasn’t such a selfish man, he would have requested that she transferred to a Division she was far more suited for long ago.

Never mind that.

He raised his eyes to the doorway. “Any news, Ukitake?”

His friend peeled himself from the doorframe, definitely amused as he folded his hands into his sleeves. “You know that Kuchiki opened a senkaimon last night,” he said.

Shunsui nodded, waiting. Ukitake wouldn’t make a trip here just to tell him something he already knew.

“She came back and, according to Lilynette-chan, she fought with her zanpaktou. They are both with Retsu-senpai at the Fourth right now. And…” he hesitated. “There’s more, but I told them to wait until you’re there before they tell us everything that happened.”

Eyes narrowing, Shunsui cocked his head.

“So they met Muramasa, then.”

“Yes,” Ukitake nodded.

“Well then,” Shunsui smiled. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The differences between a monster and a man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Nothing for this part of the chapter, unless you think slash/romance between two men count. If so, why are you here?  
>  **Notes:** Again, this is one chapter in two parts. If you clicked the link to come here before reading Chapter 11, go back now. Nothing will make sense if you don’t.

They reached the Fourth Division by _shunpo_ in mere seconds, heading towards the room where Rukia and Lilynette were the moment they reached. It wasn’t particularly difficult to find them: Lilynette had a carrying voice.

“I’m _telling_ you,” she said, sounding incredibly irate. “I don’t need healing! Why don’t you just focus on Kuchiki and leave me alone already!”

“You know,” Shunsui said as he stepped into the room. “That’s exactly what Starrk-san said when we saw him.”

Lilynette whirled around. “Starrk? You saw Starrk?”

He took a long look at her, taking in the blood, the gore, the claws, and the fur. It was… extremely unexpected, but not nearly as much as the fact that he distinctly remembered her mask fragment being a full helmet instad of the eyepatch that it was now. 

When he first proposed that Lilynette and Starrk could teach them more about Hollows, he hadn’t expected the two of them to start throwing everything they knew out of the window.

His lips curled up slightly. “Mm. He came here at dawn or so, bringing Ukitake’s Third Seats.”

“Oh good,” Lilynette said, and some kind of tension seemed to drain out of her. She sat down on the bed, turning around to glance at the unconscious Rukia-chan for a moment. “I was worried that he had gotten himself killed or something like that.”

“Say, Lilynette-chan,” Shunsui started, keeping his tone as casual and nonchalant as ever. “What happened to your mask?”

She sighed, giving him a tired look. “Everyone has been asking me that,” she complained, dragging a hand through her hair. The roots, Shunsui noted, were light green, darkening to a forest-like colour at the tips. “I’ll just wait for Starrk to come, because I know he’ll ask too, and I don’t want to repeat myself.”

“Alright then,” Ukitake said before Shunsui could even open his mouth. He stepped forward, smiling at Lilynette. “Why don’t you tell us what happened to Kuchiki instead?”

Lilynette turned to look at the unconscious girl in the room, frown deepening even further. She reached out for a moment before clenching her claw-like hand and letting it drop back to the side, her expression troubled.

She was halfway through telling Ukitake about Rukia’s battle with Sode no Shirayuki when the man interrupted.

“Kuchiki _let her zanpaktou go_?” Ukitake said, sounding horrified. “Does she know what that meant?”

“You have to ask her once she wakes up,” Lilynette said, rubbing across the bridge of her nose. The wounds there – _bites_ , Shunsui realised – looked raw, but they didn’t open again.

She shook her head. “Anyway, when the sword was losing, that creepy guy appeared.” She shuddered. “The one with the really long nails.”

“Muramasa,” Shunsui offered.

“Yeah, whatever his name is,” Lilynette waved a hand. “He said _something_ to Kuchiki’s sword, and… Look, I thought the sword was going to stop fighting, because a Shinigami’s sword fighting its Shinigami is _stupid_. It’s not as if Kuchiki is a Hollow… But anyway, that creepy guy—”

“Hold on, Lilynette,” Ukitake held up a hand. “What do you mean, ‘as if Kuchiki is a Hollow’?”

Lilynette threw him a dirty look. “How the hell am I supposed to say anything if I get interrupted all the damned time?” she grumbled, but answered the question nonetheless. “Starrk said that the wolves are part of our swords, and it just makes sense for us to fight them because we are Hollows, they are Hollows, and generally when two Hollows meet each other they end up fighting and eating each other. It makes sense for us to be fighting our swords if that creepy bastard brought them out.”

She took a deep breath. “But you Shinigami don’t fight each other, right? You fight _Hollows_. So it really doesn’t make any fucking sense for you to fight your swords. Your swords are part of you, aren’t they? Isn’t there some kind of saying amongst you about accepting yourself?”

Shunsui amused himself by watching Ukitake wince every single a swear word come out of Lilynette’s mouth. But he was mostly preoccupied by what the girl was saying; what she was revealing about herself. She was, undoubtedly, just as clever as Starrk. A different sort of cleverness, however; Lilynette just seemed to know much _more_ than Starrk did, as if she… remembered more of the world. She seemed to be hiding it behind the same kind of logical analysis that Starrk used, but Shunsui knew, instinctively, that it was different.

He filed that under the category of ‘to be investigated on further’.

Ukitake nodded. “That makes sense,” he said. “Will you please continue, Lilynette-chan?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Lilynette nodded. “As I was saying, the sword seemed to want to stop fighting. But that creepy bastard said something to her, and she went to his side like some kind of _puppy_. He looked at me and…” she bit her lip. “He said that I was _interesting_ , but far too weak.”

That was another fact for the same folder. 

“Anyway, that’s when Kurosaki dropped in. He shouted at Kuchiki, shouted at me, shouted at the creepy bastard,” she snorted. “He’s kind of dumb, honestly. Anyway, the creepy bastard paid _him_ way more attention. He told him his name, and also that…” she hesitated, as if to increase the drama of the story.

“That he was a zanpaktou.”

Immediately, her face fell at both Shunsui and Ukitake’s lack of reaction. “You knew that already, didn’t you?” she accused.

Shunsui exchanged a glance with his friend. “We guessed,” he said dryly. “He clearly isn’t a Shinigami or a Hollow, and he has a zanpaktou army at his command. It’s the only logical conclusion.”

“But it’s good to hear confirmation straight from the horse’s mouth, Lilynette-chan,” Ukitake reassured quickly.

Lilynette didn’t look appeased. She crossed her arms, huffing. “You just wasted your time questioning me then, because that’s the most interesting thing I’ve got,” she said, turning her nose up at them. 

Ukitake’s lips twitched

Then she sighed, shaking her head. “Look, I better get going. I have to find Starrk, and make sure those bastard wolves don’t hurt anyone else.”

“Wait, Lilynette-chan,” Ukitake reached out, grabbing her by the shoulder. She stopped abruptly, staring at his hand like it was an alien object. Did she… was she _surprised_ that Ukitake was touching her?

“Even if you refuse to be healed, you need a shower,” Ukitake said firmly. “You can’t go out covered in blood like this.”

“Why?” Lilynette blinked. “I’m just going to get dirty again anyway.”

“Well, a shower will make you feel better,” Ukitake tried.

Lilynette fell silent for a long moment, staring down at her hands, eye shadowed by wisps of her now-freed hair. “Will it really?” she asked in a small, soft voice.

Shunsui winced. It appeared that he was getting off his game: he didn’t realise until now just how much having to kill all the Hollows, to be splattered by blood and gore, would have affected Lilynette until now.

But Ukitake didn’t seem surprised. He knelt down until he was eye-level with her, drawing her into a light hug. Lilynette stiffened, and Shunsui saw the way her eye went wide; saw her starting to shake.

“It will,” Ukitake said softly. “At the very least, you won’t feel sticky anymore. I’ll call for someone to get you new clothes, alright?”

Shunsui moved forward, reaching out to place a hand on top of Lilynette’s head. Her hair felt soft, like sink, and her mask fragment was warm. “It’s better that you listen to Ukitake when he’s like this, Lilynette-chan,” he said lightly. “Or he’ll be even more of a mother hen.”

Ukitake shot him a grateful look, but Shunsui only shrugged. He felt the tension in Lilynette start to ease even more, and he was sure she was about to agree when a shout interrupted her.

“LILYNETTE!”

Starrk nearly slammed into the doorframe when he rushed into the room, panting hard. He seemed to be covered in even _more_ blood than the last time Shunsui had seen him, mere hours ago. And he had claws too, and fur that extended up to the middle of his forearms, framed by the ripped pieces of what used to be his sleeves.

His eyes landed on Lilynette, and Ukitake barely had time to get out of the way before Starrk was rushing forward. The two of them practically crashed against each other, clinging tightly. Despite the change in their appearance, Shunsui couldn’t help but think of the scene months ago, when they split apart after fighting Aizen and clung so tightly to each other that it was nearly impossible to separate them.

Then Lilynette ruined the moment by smacking Starrk hard on the head. “I was fucking _worried_ about you, you asshole!” she yelled.

Pulling back, Starrk gave a hoarse chuckle when he looked at her. Shunsui watched, with a fascination like how one watched a carriage as it overturned, as Starrk’s eyes widened and he _gaped_ at his other half.

“Lilynette… what happened to your mask?”

“That’s what we would all like to know too,” Shunsui said dryly.

Starrk jerked a little, his eyes lifting up to meet Shunsui’s as if it was the first time he registered that he was there. Shunsui was almost tempted to pout about it, but given that his current competition was the other half of Starrk’s soul, he supposed he really couldn’t complain.

“Ah, taichou-san,” Starrk murmured. He turned to Ukitake and nodded at him. “Taichou-san.”

Lilynette stepped back, dragging a hand through her hair. Flakes of dried blood scattered all over the floor as she sighed.

“Okay, you’re all here,” she said, looking at all three men. “I’m just going to say this once, okay?”

She turned to Starrk. “Do you remember Findorr?”

“Barragan’s fraccion?” Starrk blinked. “Yes, but what has he to do with this?”

“Nothing,” Lilynette waved a hand. “But do you remember how he could break off parts of his mask and gain more power that way?”

Starrk’s eyes widened. “ _Oh_ ,” he said, nodding. “I see now.”

“We’re still lost here, Lilynette-chan.” Ukitake said wryly.

Lilynette perched on the edge of the bed again, looking at Rukia-chan. “It’s not just Starrk who doesn’t like power,” she muttered, almost too soft to be heard. “I don’t like it too. I hate having power. It never comes to anything good.”

She stared down at her hands, taking a deep breath. “When I split us up, I was really selfish. I pushed all the power to Starrk, but it still isn’t enough.” She bit her lip. “I wanted to be weak, _really_ weak. I don’t want to hurt anyone ever again by accident… So I decided to make myself even weaker.”

Perhaps Lilynette’s wounds caused from the long years of loneliness in the desert ran even deeper than Starrk’s.

Touching her mask fragment, she gave all three of them a shaky smile. “I think this is what my mask fragment _should_ look like. It’s not the same as the mask fragment we had in our first resurreccion form, but…”

“Lilynette…” Starrk began, sounding hesitant and unsure. “If you don’t want to hurt anyone, then why were you training with Yachiru these past months? Why were you trying to learn how to fight?”

“I don’t want you to protect me anymore, Starrk!” Lilynette burst out, standing up. “I realised that if I’m so weak, then you have to protect me all the time, and you’ll get hurt protecting me and I don’t want that _either_.” Her hands trembled. “And… and Kuchiki told me that she practiced every day because she didn’t want people to protect her, that she wanted to protect her friends.”

She darted another glance at the still-unconscious Rukia-chan. “I still didn’t want power, but if… if I knew how to fight even when I’m weak, then it should be the best of both worlds, right? Then I can protect people without them being _afraid_ of how powerful I am.” She wiped at her face, messing it up even further as her tears mixed with the blood and smeared all over what little unblemished skin that remained. 

“But it wasn’t enough. Kuchiki was still getting hurt, and the wolves were going to eat her. I _had_ to take it off. I don’t want to, but I had to…”

“Lilynette…” Starrk reached out to her, uncertainty written all over her face.

Ukitake, who had been silent all this while, swooped down and drew Lilynette into a tight hug, holding her in her arms as she sobbed into her shoulder. Ukitake’s Captain haori was getting all dirty, and he might just get a lecture from Yama-jii about that once this was over, but Shunsui had a distinct feeling that his friend didn’t give a damn.

“It’s a good goal, Lilynette-chan,” Ukitake soothed. “Power is worth having if it is to protect the people around you.”

“But…” the one who spoke wasn’t Lilynette, but Starrk. “But won’t you think that we’re… horrifying? That we are monsters?”

He looked so lost there, with his hands outstretched, that Shunsui couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Dropping down to his knees, he wrapped his hands around Starrk’s hands, right over the fur and claws. The sheer surprise in those grey-blue eyes, the reluctant hope shining through underneath, was nearly enough to break his heart and make him fall in love with this man all over again.

“We’ll never think of you as a monster,” Shunsui said quietly, firmly. “Either of you.”

Carefully, gently, he folded Starrk’s hands, stroking his thumbs over the knuckles. The fur was silky soft, so much unlike a real wolf’s. “Retsu-senpai told me that you have been bringing the injured here ever since the station is set up. Lilynette brought Rukia-chan back. And…” He took a deep breath, looking into Starrk’s eyes. “The blood on you isn’t just the wolves’. It’s your own too. Both of you bled and fought so hard to protect those around you.”

“How could we think of you two as monsters?” Ukitake added.

Something inside Starrk seemed to break at those words. He closed his eyes and fell forward, and Shunsui shrugged off his pink kimono before pulling him close, running his hands up and down that strong back to try to soothe the tremours he could feel.

At that moment, Shunsui found that he could hate a man he barely knew. He despised Muramasa; despised whatever it was that he did to Starrk and Lilynette’s zanpaktou to force them to kill their own wolves; despised that the two of them were forced to grow fangs and claws and fur when they had such issues about acceptance in the first place.

“I’m getting your clothes dirty, taichou-san,” Starrk said shakily. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

“There’s blood all over my clothes.”

“I offered Lilynette-chan here a shower,” Ukitake said quietly. “How about you take one too, Starrk-san?”

“The wolves…” Starrk protested immediately, tensing up.

Shunsui shook his head, rubbing at Starrk’s shoulders. “You’ll need to be at your best to fight well, Starrk-san. Besides, trust our forces a little bit more. I’m sure they can fend for themselves for an hour at most.”

“I…”

“Stop dawdling and take a shower, Starrk!” Lilynette shouted. She peered over Ukitake’s shoulder to meet her other half’s startled eyes. “I want one too.”

Starrk hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”

“I’ll bring Lilynette-chan,” Ukitake said. “And Shunsui will take you, Starrk-san. Is that alright?”

The two Arrancar exchanged a glance before they nodded, sagging in the two Captains’ arms. “Yeah,” Starrk replied softly for the both of them. “That’s fine.”

Ukitake’s gaze was boring into him, and Shunsui lifted his eyes, quirking a crooked smile when he saw his friend’s gaze.

Shunsui would be the first to admit that, when they first decided to sponsor Starrk and Lilynette, it was nothing more than a gamble, especially for Ukitake. The power that the two of them were capable of was terrifying when they were enemies, but a huge asset when they were allies. Even though he had fallen for Starrk months ago, there was still a part of him that was planning and plotting, trying to find the threads of Starrk’s being so he could wind them all around himself.

But now… now neither of them could even imagine the two Arrancar as assets, or tools, or anything resembling those terms, could they? Even while they drew the threads of Lilynette and Starrk’s beings around themselves, they were caught in that web as well. 

“Let’s go then, Lilynette-chan,” Ukitake was saying then as he lifted Lilynette into his arms. She wiped at her tears, nodding, before she turned her face to curl against his chest.

Ukitake’s small smile as he kissed Lilynette’s hair said everything. Shunsui was sure that if anyone ever made mention of what good tools the two Arrancar made in Ukitake’s hearing, that poor person would be face-to-face with Ukitake’s rarely-shown temper.

After all, no one spoke badly of any member of Ukitake’s family. And Lilynette had become, whether she was aware or not, whether Ukitake was willing to admit it or not, his friend’s daughter. 

As for Starrk himself, well…

Shunsui picked up his pink kimono, draping it over Starrk’s shoulders. He smiled at Starrk’s surprise.

“Shall we, then?”

A lover was somewhat akin to family, wasn’t it?

***

The water ran over his head, dissolving some of the coagulating blood, pushing off some of the dried flakes to fall onto the tiled floor. Starrk stared at all the red surrounding him, wondering if it was possible for him to drown in it. He looked at his hands, his _claws_ , and turned one wrist around. The skin was buried beneath the fur, and he took a deep breath before he started to sink the claws in, to tear the fur off so he could see some sign that he was still—

“Starrk-san, I’ve placed your new clothes on right outside the shower stall. I’ll wait for you outside.”

He started hard, barely able to shout out a “Thank you” before staring at his hands again. The water was warm, but the lingering heat on his skin had nothing to do with it. He remembered the feel of Kyouraku’s arms around him; remembered his calm, accepting eyes; remembered how Kyouraku took his hands into his own even though he should be cringing away or staring in horror like those two women had.

Kyouraku said that he would never think of Starrk and Lilynette as monsters, and though there was a part of Starrk that screamed at him, that warned him about the last time he believed in someone, he couldn’t help but want to _trust_.

Instead of skinning himself, he grabbed the shampoo and started lathering it into his hair. Soap suds ran down his face, stinging when they met the barely-healed wounds, but Starrk relished in it. He stared hard at the wall in front of him, studying how each tile was separated from the next by a line of cement; studying the precise shade of blue.

If he kept his attention on that, if he held on tight to the memory of Kyouraku’s words, then he could keep the memories of white walls away. 

He dried himself and dressed quickly when he was done with the shower, opening the door of the stall to let out billowing smoke. Starrk blinked when he saw Kyouraku standing there.

“Done already, Starrk-san?”

Starrk couldn’t answer. There was a look in those grey eyes, something deeply familiar that made his instincts start ringing alarm bells in his head. He knew what that was, but it… it had only been there for a brief moment, so it was likely just his imagination.

Nodding, he averted his eyes, rubbing the towel through his wet hair. “Ah.”

“Alright then,” Kyouraku said, perfectly cheerful. “Would you like to go out again, or would you like to stay a little longer and have a drink with me?”

Starrk hesitated. He knew he should leave immediately; knew he should go out there and stop _his_ wolves from hurting others. But… he knew what Kyouraku said was true too: there were strong Shinigami out there, and they could protect those who need protecting. They knew how to fight.

And now that he was out of the shower, flashes of white keep intruding into his vision. If he went out there like this, he wouldn’t be fighting at his best. If the memory of Kyouraku’s warmth could help keep those flashes at bay, then…

Perhaps he could give it a try.

“Do you… do you mind if I tell you something, taichou-san?” he asked.

Kyouraku looked surprised, but when he smiled, it was wider than before. “Of course you can, Starrk-san. Would you like me to get some sake?”

“Can I have tea instead?” he asked, because he really wasn’t very good at holding his alcohol just yet and he needed to be at his best when he was fighting later.

The Captain laughed. “Tea it is,” he said. “Will you wait for me in the sitting room?”

Starrk nodded. He knew this place well now – Kyouraku’s living quarters in the barracks of the Eighth – so he made his way there. Fixing his eyes on the wood, he ran through the words he needed to say, letting the strange shapes of the wood’s grain chase the memories away.

When Kyouraku placed a full cup of tea in front of him, Starrk wrapped his hands around it, careful to not prod himself with the claws.

“Have you ever wondered why I don’t like to kill, taichou-san?” he asked softly. “It must be odd, because I’m a Hollow.”

“Well,” Kyouraku said, sounding contemplative. “I had, but you have defied practically every expectation of a Hollow I have ever met, so I didn’t think much of it.

_Yes_ , Starrk thought. Yes, it was a good idea to tell this man, after all.

“I never liked killing,” he said. “You know that I killed without wanting to, but… I _hate_ killing because…”

He bit his lip, and forced himself to keep going. “Aizen called me into his rooms once,” he started, and had to stop immediately because of the sudden flare of reiatsu in the air.

“Taichou-san, I can’t talk when you are throwing your anger around like this,” he winced.

“Sorry,” Kyouraku said lightly, though there was a strange darkness in his eyes as he reached out and placed his hands over Starrk’s wrists. “I don’t like hearing the traitor’s name.”

Oh. Starrk blinked. “Would you like me to stop, then?”

Kyouraku shook his head hard. “Oh no, please don’t,” he said. “I’ll control myself.”

The weight of the air lessened, and Starrk breathed easier. 

“Once, Aizen called me into his rooms,” he started again. “He wanted… it wasn’t what he usually wanted.” 

He was hedging, stalling for time. Starrk clenched his hands tight, forcing himself forward. “There was Arrancar there. Newly-made, I think. The Arrancar was chained to the wall, and it was barely intelligent, it couldn’t even speak. And Aizen wanted… he wanted me to…”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t have power in this room,” he said, and allowed himself briefly to wonder at Kyouraku’s sharp intake of breath. “It was made from something different from Las Noches. Something like your prison and… and the wrist restraints I wear.”

“Seki-seki stone.”

“Yes, that,” Starrk nodded. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t even fire off a Cero in there. But Aizen said that… he said that he didn’t want me to kill with my powers. He wanted me to kill the Arrancar with just my bare hands.”

His breath was coming shorter and shorter, and he rushed through, throwing words out haphazardly. “I didn’t want to, I really didn’t, but he said he would be disappointed in me if I didn’t and I wanted to disappoint him even less. So I killed that Arrancar, and… and I can’t forget the way his throat looked like when I tore it out. I can’t forget the way he tried so hard to breathe, the way his eyes stared at me like I am… I am…”

For the second time in half as many hours, Starrk felt arms enveloping his body. He clung hard, holding onto those broad shoulders, eyes staring at a spot beyond Kyouraku as he shuddered.

“I didn’t even know the Arrancar’s name. I didn’t even know if he _had_ a name. I wish I knew his name but that might make it worse.”

Kyouraku was trying to hush him, but Starrk couldn’t stop the flow of words anymore.

“After that… after that, Aizen pushed me to the floor and he fucked me there,” no, no, he didn’t plan to tell Kyouraku this, he wasn’t going to say _this_! “He fucked me right next to the body and all I could smell was blood, and there was so much blood… He fucked me until I screamed and cried and then he… he held me and said I was… I was magnificent.”

He buried his face in Kyouraku’s shoulders, shaking hard, breathing so shattered that he was dizzied by it. But Kyouraku only held him harder, so much that Starrk could feel his heart beating steadily even through the layers of cloth that separated their skins. Starrk’s hands twitched, and he just _clung_ onto the other man.

“It’s alright,” Kyouraku was murmuring in his ears. “It’s alright now. He’s gone. You’re safe now. You don’t have to kill just to satisfy a monster anymore. He’s gone now. Shhh…. It’s alright now.”

There were no tears. His body shook like a tree in an autumn gale, shedding its leaves to make way for winter, for the renewal of spring. His body shook as he shed all of Aizen’s lies, finally releasing them from his tight, grasping hold to make way for the fresh green buds of truth.

Starrk didn’t know how long he stayed there, shuddering. He didn’t understand how Kyouraku could touch him when he knew that he had been Aizen’s sex toy, but he wasn’t going to question it. Kyouraku was giving him this, and Starrk had learned enough over the past months to know that it wasn’t selfish for him to take what was given.

Perhaps… perhaps he had lied during the trial. When he told the old man that Aizen had committed no crimes against him, perhaps he was lying. Wasn’t it a crime to have used someone like this? Starrk was a Hollow, true, but it didn’t mean that he didn’t have feelings, that he wasn’t capable of feeling hurt, that he deserved to be _used_.

The first time he learned to recognise the taste of Kyouraku’s anger in the air, the man was looking over the reports of a case. Three men used their greater rank and authority to force a woman to have sex with them. Starrk hadn’t understood why something like that would make Kyouraku angry, but the Captain had told him, gently, about rape, about abuse, about how a person’s feelings should be respected. 

_No one should be treated like a toy_ , Kyouraku had said. And Starrk had remembered just how the man’s hands had trembled with the force of his rage.

Maybe the comparison weren’t entirely fitting – Starrk was a man, and he did agree to join Aizen – but he had been running the two shapes in his mouth, and the edges of both made the insides of his mouth bleed. Maybe, despite the differences, they were the same thing in the end.

He calmed after long moments, breathing hard and wiping away the tears on his face. Kyouraku sat there, waiting, and there was rage in his eyes, rage directed towards a man who was being punished but was nonetheless out of his reach.

“Don’t be angry at Aizen, taichou-san,” Starrk said, and he was surprised at the strength of his own voice. He sounded exhausted, but the words were steady, no longer shaky and empty. “There’s no use.”

“Starrk-san,” Kyouraku started. And Starrk’s eyes widened as the other man leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his hair.

“I’ll be angry at him all I want,” Kyouraku whispered. “I’ll always be angry at him for what he did to you, for the way he had forced you to do so much that you didn’t want to.

“But Starrk-san…” the Captain pulled back, and there was that strange light in his eyes again, the one that Starrk had been seeing for the past few months. “I think I’ll be happier that he didn’t manage to break you and change you.”

He reached out. When his hand touched Starrk’s cheek, when those calloused fingertips brushed over his skin, Starrk froze. The look in those eyes…

His instincts _screamed_ , and he nearly threw himself backwards. He kept himself still only because… because Kyouraku was warm, and his own hands had somehow tangled in that pink kimono.

“Do you…” Starrk swallowed, because he didn’t really want to know. “Do you want to fuck me, taichou-san?”

Kyouraku’s eyes went wide. His arms dropped to his sides, and Starrk watched, a little dully, as the Captain picked up Starrk’s own hands, holding them in his own.

“I don’t want to fuck you,” Kyouraku said, soft and gentle. He lifted his eyes, and the smile was crooked and self-deprecating. “I want to make love to you.”

Starrk blinked. “I don’t understand.”

Slowly, Kyouraku lifted his hands and started to kiss the knuckles. “In autumn,” he began, voice hypnotisingly soft. “I learned to love you on the roof. I saw the way the clouds were reflected in your eyes and I learned how to look at the skies all over again. In winter, I saw you with snow in your hair, ice on your lashes, and a winterberry-sweet smile on your lips. I want, more than anything, to make sure that you always smile with such ease.”

Starrk’s head was spinning. He remembered that occasion, when Yachiru and Lilynette had dragged him into a snowball fight. He was covered in snow, wet and cold, but it was the first time he and Lilynette had played with anyone else. Kyouraku had been watching them then, and he was thinking this?

What was this?

“Now it is spring,” Kyouraku continued. “Just now, when you stepped out of the shower, there was water on your lashes. The colour of your eyes was reflected in them, and I thought water was beautiful for the first time in a thousand years. With every word you speak, every act you make, my heart breaks. It breaks and grows stronger, bigger, but I don’t think it will ever be large enough to contain all the love I feel for you.”

When Kyouraku lifted his eyes, Starrk felt himself stop breathing. The look in there… it was so warm, so much that he was sure that the heat would seep down deep into his bones and lodge there for the rest of his life. If Kyouraku looked at him like this, if he always looked at him like this, then Starrk would never feel cold again.

“I don’t know if I can ever give you what you want,” he finally found his voice to say.

Kyouraku shook his head. “I’m willing to wait,” he told Starrk with the same crooked smile. “I can wait until you are ready.”

It could be a lie; it could be a way to manipulate Starrk. But what for? Grimmjow was right, so long ago: if Kyouraku had wanted to fuck him, he just needed to tell Starrk so, and Starrk would have spread his legs and let him. If Kyouraku had wanted to have him, then he could have it a long time ago, with all the favours he had given so freely. He could have asked for payment in the form of Starrk’s body, and Starrk would have given it to him without knowing better. 

But he knew better now, because Kyouraku had taught him about abuse, about _choices_ , about so many things that Starrk’s days were no longer empty.

He still slept more than most, but not as much as he did before, because every day brought something new… every moment was something new for him, by this man’s side.

Distantly, Starrk heard the defences he had built around his heart ever since Aizen’s betrayal shatter into a thousand pieces.

Dropping his head onto Kyouraku’s shoulder, he pulled the other man close. He had never felt this way, like he was falling into an abyss but it was something good, something that he welcomed.

“Shunsui,” he gasped out. “ _Shunsui_.”

Once, he told this man that he would call him by his name if he ever knew to trust him. Starrk had kept himself from trusting him for all these months, keeping him at arm’s length, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Shunsui’s arms wrapped around him, and he kissed Starrk’s hair again. “If I had known that I just needed to tell you how I felt to get you to trust me,” he said, amused. “I would have done so long ago.”

He _remembered_.

For the first time, Starrk learned how to laugh, truly laugh, with tears in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twelve chapters. _Twelve chapters_.
> 
> That is all. Please tell me if the wait is worth it, if nothing else.


	13. Her Dirty Paws, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zaraki receives a proposition. Rukia starts figuring out something. Starrk makes an unwise offer that he’s going to stick to anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: Grimmjow/Neliel/Zaraki and Lilynette/Rukia.
> 
> Let me convince you that this works. 8D

Claws sliced through the flesh of a shoulder, scraping over the collarbone, nearly deep enough to cut the bone into two. 

Kenpachi grinned as he jumped backwards, cracking his neck slightly. The wound tore even more, blood welling up to the surface and staining his haori red, filling the reishi-heavy air with the heavy scent of iron. But Kenpachi revelled in it: there was nothing that sent his blood pumping more than the scent of blood, the surefire sign of a damned good fight.

He pulled off his eyepatch, tossing it at Yachiru without looking. His grin turned even sharper and more bloodthirsty, and he raised his gaze to meet his opponent’s.

Grimmjow stood there, slowly licking blood off of his claws. The length of his cat-like tongue lapped over the black tips, spreading red all over the edges of his mouth, staining the skin red. Kenpachi watched the display with narrowed eyes, noticing – not for the first time – how Grimmjow’s woman seemed fixated on the sight.

“You don’t taste too bad, Shinigami,” the Hollow drawled.

Kenpachi scowled. “Stop doing that disgusting shit,” he snapped. “Are you going to fight me or fuck your woman over there?”

There was a moment where Grimmjow exchanged a glance with his woman – _Neliel_ , Kenpachi suddenly remembered her name – before Grimmjow’s loud cackle echoed in the empty air of the sands around him. 

“Fuck,” he said, shaking his head. “You fucking Shinigami don’t even know what you’re missing out on.”

Before Kenpachi could even ask him what he was talking about, or to tell him to shut up and carry on with the fighting already, Grimmjow leapt at him, claws extended, grin wide, fangs bloodstained. Kenpachi returned the bloodthirst with his own, raising his sword to block the blow, but Grimmjow’s hand was glowing, and Kenpachi barely had the time to dodge the blue blades that were suddenly extending from his opponent’s claws.

Avoidance had never really been his style; Kenpachi far preferred to confront everything head-on. So when Grimmjow slashed those elongated claws towards him, he blocked them with his sword, slipping it into the spaces between. He _twisted_ the blade, his yellow reiatsu clashing with Grimmjow’s blue. There was just a moment of sharp triumph when the claws broke, but it was short-lived: Kenpachi had to duck as Grimmjow’s other hand came for his head.

The top-most bell was cut off. It rolled on the sand, but the soft tinkling sound it made was entirely drowned out by Kenpachi’s yell as he attacked, aiming straight for Grimmjow’s neck, for the tiny slice of darkness in between the bone plates he could see. Grimmjow laughed, somersaulting backwards. He raised his elbow at Kenpachi, and the Shinigami wondered if he was going to try braining him with the limb for a second before crystals suddenly appeared in front of him.

They exploded right in his face, the heat scorching. But Kenpachi only laughed, his own madness and excitement ringing together with Grimmjow’s in the air as desert-dust surrounded him. He swiped his sword impatiently, dissipating the smoke with a burst of reiatsu that smelled like sulphur, before he dove in for the kill again.

“You were holding out on me, Grimmjow!” he yelled as Grimmjow parried the strike with his claws. “You didn’t have those tricks last time!”

Grimmjow grinned at him before he snapped his fangs. He would have taken Kenpachi’s nose off if he hadn’t thrown himself back instinctively, but the skin still split and he felt blood start to course down his face.

“I’m not a one-trick pony like you, Zaraki,” the Arrancar taunted, licking blood off his fang. “I have other things up my sleeves than just slashing and cutting.”

Kenpachi snorted, rolling his eyes slightly as he blocked another blow from those sharp claws. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before.

“I’ve beaten plenty of bastards who had more tricks than you do, and they’re dead,” he snarled. “I pounded you into the damned ground the last time. What makes you think those things can make any difference, eh?”

Distantly, he heard the sound of female laughter. Just what the fuck had he said that was so damned funny? Kenpachi knew he wasn’t stupid, no matter what the other holier-than-thou Captains liked to say, but he honestly was confused this time.

But he didn’t have time to think about it, because Grimmjow was grabbing his wrist with his free hand, sinking claws into his flesh. Kenpachi grinned wider at the pain, stabbing his sword forward, overbalancing the Arrancar. His sword _finally_ found its mark on the side of Grimmjow’s neck, glancing off the bone armour before it sank into the flesh beneath the plates.

A single flash, and Grimmjow wasn’t tangled with him anymore. Instead, he was a distance away, red gathering in the palm of his hand. Kenpachi didn’t even bother rolling his eyes, cutting straight through the Cero heading towards him with one slash of his sword as he threw himself forward.

“That Fifth guy gave me more of a fight than you ever had,” he commented. His tone would be mild if not for the taunt he didn’t bother to hide. “He didn’t jump around like some coward; he stood there and fought like a man.”

Grimmjow _snarled_ at him. This time, Kenpachi was ready for the barrage of blue crystals that came towards him. He dodged one with a tilt of his head, cutting through the others with one swipe of his sword. The crystals exploded when they touched metal, but the explosions really were too weak to harm him much. Sure, his skin was burnt, but it was only on the surface and so was negligible.

Using the smoke as a sort of disguise, Kenpachi leapt forward. He slammed his hand into Grimmjow’s neck, pushing him down onto the sand before he tightened his hold on his sword and sent the chipped blade down as well.

“You’re a piss poor fighter when you’re in some snit,” he said, rolling his eyes. He figured that out the very first time he fought Grimmjow: riling up the other man always ensured some kind of victory. 

“What crawls up your ass whenever I mention that Nnoitra guy, eh?”

“Why the hell do you care?” Grimmjow narrowed his eyes.

“Honestly, I don’t give a fuck,” Kenpachi growled, shoving the Arrancar even deeper into the sand for his damned idiocy. “But I spent half of a fucking day looking for you in the depths of this stupid desert, and I want a better fight than one that I can win if I just mention Nnoitra’s name.”

Predictably, Grimmjow bared his fangs at him, blood-spotted spittle nearly splattering Kenpachi’s face. Returning snarl for snarl, Kenpachi shifted his position, straddling Grimmjow’s waist, pinning him down with his entire weight.

“Like now, for instance.”

That weird _something_ flashed across Grimmjow’s eyes again, but it was gone in seconds and so was irrelevant. The Arrancar arched upwards, trying to throw him off with the strength of his waist and hips, but Kenpachi dug his knees deep into the sand. When the claws came for his face, he grabbed the wildly-swinging wrists, pinning them right above Grimmjow’s head.

“I ain’t trying to help you,” he continued, narrowing his eyes. “I just want a better fight.”

“You ain’t fooling me, Zaraki,” Grimmjow narrowed his eyes. “There must be plenty of people worth fighting back in Soul Society.”

Kenpachi rolled his eyes. He moved backwards, grabbing his sword and using its edge to cut a piece of cloth off of his hakama so he could bandage his shoulder. It wouldn’t do for sand to get into the wound. “I ain’t lying to you,” he drawled.

Yachiru hopped over, dropping onto his shoulder. “There aren’t many people who _want_ to fight Ken-chan,” she chirped, because of course the girl had heard the entire conversation. “And it gets boring to fight Pachinko-ball or Eyebrows all the time.”

“Yeah,” Kenpachi nodded. “You fight someone long enough, you know all their damned tricks. And Ikkaku and Yumichika aren’t the type to hide shit from me; every time I fight ‘em, I know what they’re capable of, and it ain’t much.”

In the middle of helping him tie the knot over his shoulder, Yachiru giggled loudly. Was she laughing because she knew something he didn’t? … Eh, that wasn’t possible. Whatever Yachiru knew, he knew.

“You ain’t a part of my Division,” he continued. “And you like to fight. You’re just boring right now because of some issue you have with this Nnoitra guy, and I don’t like boring fights.”

Grimmjow stared at him for a moment before he burst out laughing. “Fuck,” he said, practically writhing beneath Kenpachi from his chuckles. “Are all Shinigami as fucking nice as you and Kurosaki?”

“Nice?” Kenpachi knew he sounded incredulous, but Grimmjow completely deserved it. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Dragging a hand through his knee-length blue hair, Grimmjow licked one fang before he grinned sharply. “You’re going on and on ‘bout wanting me get stronger so you can fight me, but you just really want to fight _me_ , don’t you?” 

He shook his head. “You’re all fucked in the head.”

Kenpachi paused, considering those words. No matter how much it seemed that he dismissed other people’s words offhand without considering them, he only did that to people he didn’t respect, and he wasn’t shy about admitting that he respected Grimmjow. In terms of raw power, Grimmjow wasn’t his match, but he never once hesitated to fight back whenever Kenpachi attacked him. 

His blade showed no fear, and for a man who was used to people around him fearing him – Ikkaku and Yumichika did, though their respect and loyalty outweighed the fear, and hell, even _Ichigo_ was afraid of him – that was worth a great deal.

He cocked his head to the side after a moment before he shrugged. “Sure, I want to help you,” he shrugged. “Why not?”

Grimmjow stared at him. After a moment, he was laughing again. “Fuck, I can’t believe this,” he muttered to himself.

But when the Arrancar met his gaze, something like calm settled over the blue. He looked at his claws for a moment before smoke curled out from between the bone plates, and he returned back to his sealed form, his sword stuck to the ground next to his head.

“Neliel,” he called, turning to look at his woman. “You want to tell him about those two bastards?”

She had walked over quietly during their conversation, and now she sat down next to them, smiling. “Why not?” 

They looked at each other for long moments, having an entire conversation in silence. Kenpachi was just reaching the limit of his patience, tempted to shove his sword into either or both of their heads, when they turned to him as one.

“We’ll tell you,” Neliel said.

And so they told him. Alright, he might not have understood some of the parts – especially the bits about the courting ritual and a mating bond – but he got the gist: the bastard Nnoitra cheated against an opponent who was stronger than he was, and he got the help of some mad scientist bastard named Szayel who was even worse than that bastard Mayuri.

He was surrounded by fucking _bastards_ , he thought. It was probably fitting: he was one himself, after all.

“Fuck,” he said finally, shaking his head. The few remaining bells in his hair tinkled, and he pulled them off irritably, handing them off to Yachiru. He met her eyes then, and found that she was frowning hard.

“When Ken-chan was fighting him,” she said slowly. “He tried to attack me. That wasn’t nice.”

“Eh, most people try to do that,” Kenpachi waved a hand. “But cheating… that’s some shitty behaviour.”

The two Arrancar blinked at them before Neliel shook her head. “Why don’t you think that attacking a child isn’t a bad thing?”

Kenpachi shrugged, swinging his sword up to his shoulder. “It’s not that uncommon in Rukongai, especially in the parts we come from,” he said. “People try to kill kids all the time.” Whether it was because the kids were eating precious food, or if they just ended up unlucky enough to try to take shelter in a place that belonged to someone else, or which someone else wanted. Kenpachi himself had killed kids, especially for those who obviously didn’t have any power. It was honestly kinder to send them off to be reborn into a less shitty life in the Living World than to leave them to struggle in the hells of Zaraki and Kusajishi. 

“I know how to fight!” Yachiru waved her small arm, smiling widely. “It’s not really that hard to learn!

He grinned slightly; yeah, he could admit to himself that he was damned proud that she could. The very first moment she could walk on her own, he had taught her how to use a stick until he filched another asauchi off a dead Shinigami.

“You know,” Grimmjow started, a sly and calculating look in his eyes that had Kenpachi’s heckles up immediately. “We would kill and eat our own cubs if we’re being attacked by someone who is too strong for us to defeat.”

Blinking, Kenpachi cocked his head. “Yeah, that makes sense,” he said. 

And it really did: if things came down to losing the things he was supposed to be protecting and killing them himself, he would choose the latter at any time. It was a good impetus to get stronger, to survive and to make sure that it never happened again, without letting the chains of grief to weigh him down.

He had felt grief once, long ago, when he was just a kid. Fuck if he was ever going to let himself feel it again.

“Ken-chan once told me that he’d kill me first before he lets anyone else kill me,” Yachiru volunteered cheerfully.

Grimmjow barked a laugh, sounding surprised. “You’re more like a Hollow than a damned Shinigami, Zaraki,” he said, and the respect in his eyes was clearer than ever.

“I don’t get the hang-ups ‘bout the differences between Hollow and Shinigami,” he shrugged. “If you’re alive, you’re a piece of shit, one way or another. The only difference is whether you can strong enough to fight back when someone tries to kill you for being a piece of shit.”

Neliel was looking at him through shadowed eyes.

“Just look at that Nnoitra guy,” he said, feeling uncomfortable enough under her gaze to elaborate. “He resorted to cheating just to get rid of someone he has a problem with, and that makes him nothing more than a piece of shit.” Though he did give Kenpachi a good fight, the thought that the man he once respected that did something _that_ low made his mouth taste sour. 

“I like you,” Neliel said abruptly. “You’re a really interesting man, Zaraki Kenpachi.”

Grimmjow gave her a startled look before he slowly grinned.. “Is it because he reminds you of me?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“Only partly,” Neliel said. There was a particular edge to the curve of her smile. “I remember that Zaraki-taichou tried to spare Nnoitra’s life after he defeated him, and… you’re right, Grimmjow, he _is_ like a Hollow.”

Kenpachi blinked. “I have no fucking idea what the hell you two are talking about,” he stated flatly.

“You like to fight,” Neliel said contemplatively. “You seek fight as mindlessly as any Hollow. And yet, at the same time, you have your own philosophy as to how to live your life, a code of honour of sorts. I find that immensely interesting.”

“Hah,” Grimmjow said while Kenpachi tried to process what she just said. The Arrancar shrugged. “If it’s him, I don’t really mind.”

“… I still don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Kenpachi said, his voice verging on a growl.

Grimmjow smirked at him. “You never had a Beta come on to you before?”

“What’s a Beta?”

The two Arrancar exchanged another look again. Kenpachi was getting really tired of them doing that; holding entire conversations in silence that he wasn’t privy to, especially when it so obviously was about him.

“I’ll correct myself then,” Grimmjow said, leaning forward. His smirk was now nearly wide enough to eat his face. “You’ve never had a _woman_ come on to you before?”

… _Oh_.

“Yachiru,” he said, abruptly turning to the girl who was watching the proceedings with a wide-eyed gaze that showed way too much interest. “Go away.”

“But Ken-chan!” she whined immediately. “I know about sex already!”

“I said go away,” he growled at her. When she tried to pout, he narrowed his eyes. She knew he meant business when he did that, and she huffed before plucking all the bells from his hair before flouncing a good distance away. The sounds of the bells jingling as she juggled them was annoying, but was much less than the endless interruptions and questions he would have to endure if she stayed.

She was going to be pissed at him for a while about this, but whatever; she would forgive him once he bought her some candy or something.

“You two are sick fucks,” he grumbled. “Talking about this in front of a kid.”

“It’s just mating,” Neliel blinked, looking genuinely confused. “You were comfortable enough with letting her _watch_ you kill Nnoitra. How is this worse?”

“It’s…” Kenpachi hesitated. She was right, actually: Yachiru had always watched him fight, had watched him kill plenty of times. More than that, she had even had watched plenty of people having sex enough times during in Rukongai to know what it was. Part of the reason why he taught her how to fight was because there were plenty of rapists in Zaraki and Kusajishi, and they usually weren’t very discriminatory.

Whatever, it wasn’t important. He shrugged. “She’ll just be nosy. But anyway, I have something to ask.”

He jabbed a finger at the two of them. “Aren’t the two of you together? Why don’t you have a problem with her wanting to have sex with me?”

Grimmjow burst out laughing. Kenpachi scowled at him, but before he could say something scathing, Neliel reached out and touched his shoulder. “What makes you think that I will be the only one having you if you agree?” she murmured, and that edge in her smile was back. Now he knew what was going on, he knew it was an attempt at seduction.

And damn, it was working pretty well. He looked at Grimmjow for a moment, contemplatively.

Kenpachi liked a fight, but he thought that a good fuck would be like a fight if he was fucking someone who could take him at his worst. He never had anyone like that, of course – not to say he was a virgin, because that was fucking ridiculous when you lived in the worst regions of Rukongai – but he thought that just might be the best thing. Sometimes he would fantasise about that woman Yachiru was named after, and thought that he would want her in every way possible. Sometimes he’d imagine that she would pin him down and carve her name into his skin while he fucked her, and that turned him on more than anything.

He looked at the two Arrancar in front of him. They were just sitting there, waiting for him to make his decision patiently. His reiatsu was still flaring, still as wild as ever, but they didn’t seem to have noticed it. And he knew what Grimmjow was capable of; knew that the man could give him a hell of a fight, that he _would_ give him a hell of a fight before the fucking part.

The only thing he was uncertain about was the woman.

Slowly, he smiled, all teeth. “Sure, on one condition.”

Neliel cocked her head. “What is it?” she said, still in that deceptively gentle voice.

“I want to fight you first,” he said, looking straight into the woman’s eyes. “I want to know if you’d be a good fuck, or just a waste of my time.”

“Grimmjow is right,” Neliel murmured. She stood up, walking a little distance from him. “You really are more like a Hollow than a Shinigami.”

She crooked her fingers. “C’mon, then.”

Kenpachi looked at Grimmjow. “Don’t interfere,” he warned.

Grimmjow barked a laugh. “Wouldn’t think of it,” he said, and there was something hidden in the crooked edges of his smirk. “And let me tell you something, Zaraki.”

He leaned forward, his breath brushing over Kenpachi’s ear. “She can beat my ass into the ground.”

Now Kenpachi _knew_ that his smile was manic, the same smile that had people running for cover immediately. He stood up slowly, brushing sand off of his clothes. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Grimmjow head to the rocky outcrops at the sides, and Yachiru join him. But that wasn’t important anymore, before Neliel was looking at him, the tips of her fangs peeking over the corner of her mouth.

Oh, he was going to enjoy this. And if that smile, that dangerous and sharp smile, was speaking the truth, he was going to enjoy what came after that too.

Their swords and reiatsu clashed. And Kenpachi laughed.

He _knew_ coming to Hueco Mundo had been a damned good idea. Yachiru would get as much candy as she liked once they went back: she was the one who convinced Starrk and Lilynette to open a Garganta for them to come here, after all.

***

Starrk leaned against the wall, eyes half-lidding as he panted. His hands twitched at his sides, covered with the blood of the wolves he had just killed.

These were some of the last ones. His sword felt heavy by his side, impregnated by the power, and he knew that Lilynette’s had to feel the same. Out of the hundreds of wolves that had been roaming Seireitei, there had to be only ten left, or even lesser. 

It wouldn’t be very long until everything was over; until parts of himself were no longer running amok and trying to harm everyone around them. The very thought itself made him shiver from the cold despite his hierro and the fur covering his skin, and Starrk sighed, leaning against a wall and dropping down to sit on the ground.

He wanted, more than anything, to go back to the Eighth Division; to return to Shunsui’s arms where he knew he could find some kind of warmth. Maybe he could sleep there… he hadn’t slept ever since this whole mess begun. Starrk couldn’t even remember when he had gone so long without sleep. If he just closed his eyes, he could imagine that he was lying on Shunsui’s broad chest instead of the wall, and that the Captain’s arms were around him, and everything was warm…

But he knew he couldn’t do that. For one, he was sure that Shunsui wasn’t at the Eighth Division anymore. For another… before he could even imagine Shunsui, he would see one of the wolves tearing out a defenceless Shinigami’s throat the very moment, the sight seared to the back of his eyelids. That really wasn’t very conducive to sleeping.

It might be nearly over, but it wasn’t over yet.

Sighing, he made to stand when he felt it: an instinct deep within his chest, digging straight in. The air _shivered_ , and Starrk narrowed his eyes, claws curling instinctively when he saw the wall in front of him rip itself apart, exposing an oval of pure darkness. That wasn’t a Garganta made by an Arrancar, or even an Adjuchas for the matter. No, this had to be something made by a Menos Grande, or something else entirely.

When the stranger with the long nails and the pale clothes stumbled out of the darkness, Starrk found himself entirely unsurprised. He took a deep breath, catching the unmistakeable stench of Hueco Mundo’s sands on the man’s skin.

No, it wasn’t just Hueco Mundo. It was the smell of _Hollows_ : sickly sweet like rotting fruit, blending with the stinging sharpness of hot sand. The stench lingered on the man’s clothes like some kind of bad perfume, mixing badly with the scent of hot steel that all of the zanpaktou carried. That, coupled with the badly-made Garganta… there was only one possible conclusion, but it only created even more questions within Starrk’s mind.

The man was on his knees, panting hard. His reiatsu was flickering and wavering, and he didn’t even seem to have realised that he wasn’t alone. Starrk looked at him for a moment, trying to retrieve the hateful thoughts he once had about him, but it was impossible when Muramasa looked so terribly pathetic.

So he sighed heavily instead, letting the sound herald his approach even as he gripped onto an arm. It felt solid and cold beneath his claws, and he ignored Muramasa’s startled gaze before he pulled the man to his feet. 

“I’d ask why a zanpaktou is eating Hollows to survive,” he said softly. “But I don’t think you’ll give me an answer.”

Muramasa wrenched his arm out of Starrk’s grip, stumbling backwards. He bent over, starting to cough immediately. This time, Starrk grabbed his shoulder, pushing him against a nearby tree so he had something to lean on until the fit passed.

This close, the stench of Muramasa’s body was even stronger. Starrk breathed through his teeth.

Slowly, he used his other hand to wipe away the tears of blood that was making its way down Muramasa’s face. The shoulder he was still holding onto was starting to lose its solidity. Though Starrk didn’t know what it meant exactly – he had never heard of a zanpaktou consuming Hollows in _any_ of the stories he had read and listened to – he knew it couldn’t be good.

“You’re not meant to do something like this,” he said, though he was sure Muramasa already knew that. “Will you let me help you?”

Muramasa took a shuddering inhale, mouth falling open as he _gaped_ at Starrk. 

“Why…” the sword finally managed to find his voice. “Why would you wish to help me?”

The question was entirely predictable. Starrk shrugged. “I don’t like seeing someone hurt, especially when they’re right in front of me,” he said wryly. 

“I’m your _enemy_ ,” Muramasa snarled, baring his teeth. The Hollow stench grew even stronger. In that moment, Starrk decided that he would try something that was more Shunsui’s way than his own: do something first, and ask for forgiveness later. 

Gathering power on the tip of his fingers, he used his other hand to grip Muramasa’s jaw, forcing his mouth open. He shoved the man even harder against the tree trunk, refusing to let go despite Muramasa’s instinctive struggles, and forcefed him the little balls of reiatsu. 

Honestly, he didn’t know if this would work, if this could stave off the disaster that he could practically _feel_ approaching this man. Maybe the strength he was giving so freely couldn’t do much, but he knew he was still an Arrancar, still a Hollow no matter how little he fitted amongst them. If nothing else, his power could help ease the disunity between Muramasa and the Hollows he had devoured.

He watched as Muramasa returned back to solidity beneath his grasp; watched as his power became part of the other man’s. Muramasa’s reiatsu was steadying, and the Hollow-stench was being overwhelmed by that of heated metal. When he stopped struggling, Starrk let go, stepping back to give him some space to breathe.

“I guess that helped, if only a little,” he said carefully. “But I’m not sure how long it will sustain you.”

Muramasa was still gaping at him, his hand placed over his chest, right over where a Hollow would have lost his heart.

“If you start feeling unsteady again, if you need more, you can come to me,” Starrk offered. “I’ll help you.”

“You…” Muramasa started. He straightened, swallowing hard. “You actually meant that, Arrancar.”

“Of course I do.” Starrk cocked his head to the side, blinking. “Why would I say something I don’t mean?”

The sword opened his mouth. Closed it. “What _are_ you?” he asked finally.

“Didn’t you just say it?” Starrk pointed out, trying to not laugh. “I’m an Arrancar.”

“I can’t believe that,” Muramasa said, barking a bitter laugh. “No Hollow would help someone who is a threat to them, much less offer future help.” 

Ah, so that was it then. Starrk shook his head, walking over to the wall beside Muramasa before he leaned against it. He would feel insulted about the claims Muramasa was making about Hollows, but they _were_ true. He was an aberration even amongst aberrations.

“You are no threat to me,” he said softly. His lips quirked up into a wry smile at the immediate rejection in Muramasa’s eyes, and he held up a hand to stop the protests he knew was coming.

“I know what you’re going to say. You would insist that you are a threat, because you let loose the wolves from my and Lilynette’s swords, and they have caused so much damage, both to us and everyone around us. You would insist that you are a threat, because you have the ability to manifest the zanpaktou spirits and turn them against their masters.”

He had been thinking about this for awhile – he needed _something_ to occupy his mind so he wouldn’t dwell on the stickiness of blood on his claws, or even the fact that he had claws in the first place. (Claws and fur and _fangs_ , and wasn’t he just being thankful that he didn’t have any of those.)

Turning his head, he caught Muramasa’s gaze in his own as he shook his head. “But a person’s abilities didn’t make them a threat. Just because you’re a weapon didn’t mean that you had to be, or that you’re nothing else.” He had learned that that in the few months in Shunsui’s company. “What makes a person dangerous are their actions, and… I don’t think yours are.” 

Muramasa’s eyes were narrowing, but he didn’t interrupt. So Starrk continued, licking his lips. His mouth was dry; he had been speaking so much lately, and after decades of near-silence, he wasn’t used to it. 

“You said that you’re freeing the zanpaktou from their masters, but if that’s the case, then you should’ve released _every_ zanpaktou; not just the Captains’ and the Vice-Captains’.” He wasn’t particularly sure about that part – he might just not have _met_ the other freed zanpaktou – so he was taking a gamble here. “And if you’re really starting a rebellion, then you should be helping the zanpaktou with their battles, but you only arrived at Kuchiki Rukia’s battle with her zanpaktou after it was almost over.”

Shunsui had told him about what happened with Lilynette and Kuchiki Rukia, and that was the final piece of the puzzle that allowed everything to start clicking together. Muramasa’s words at the Hill didn’t match up with his actions afterwards.

“All of this is just a smokescreen for what you’re truly planning,” he concluded, shrugging. “And until I know what that is, you’re not a threat to me.

Muramasa blinked very slowly. “You figured all that you even though you should have been busy fighting,” he said dryly. “Why haven’t the Shinigami killed you for that mind of yours, Arrancar?”

Starrk gave him a wry smirk, “Just because I could be a threat to them didn’t mean that I am.” There was the fact that he rarely _told_ people that he could peel them apart too, but he severely doubted that Muramasa would reassured by that.

Cocking his head slightly to the side, Muramasa’s lips curled into an oily smile. “If they know that you are offering to help me, then you _are_ a threat to them,” he said, triumph lacing his tone. He unfurled his fingers until the long nails were barely brushing Starrk’s skin. “I doubt that there will be many who have come to the same conclusion as you have.”

“There is at least one who will listen if I tell them my reasons for helping you,” Starrk said, smiling gently at the thought of Shunsui: the warmth of his skin, the weight of his trust. “And I know that he will do his best to persuade the others as well.”

Before Muramasa could think of any other counterarguments, Starrk pushed himself away from the wall. He reached out and wiped away the tears of blood that were leaking from the sword’s eyes again, taking note of Muramasa’s veiled flinch at the touch.

The empty space where his heart should be ached at the sight. There was such a familiar aching void in Muramasa’s eyes, something that had nothing to do with the nature of Hollows and everything with the desperate loneliness that Starrk could sometimes still taste on the tip of his tongue.

“What are you trying to protect?”

Muramasa took a deep breath, his entire body shaking with it. Suddenly, he looked tired and extremely vulnerable before he wiped off the expression with visible effort. 

“It will take much more than some power and a few pretty words to make me give away my secrets, Arrancar,” he smirked half-heartedly. “But for all that you have said and done, I will tell you one thing.”

The sword lifted his head, and his eyes were narrowed as he met Starrk’s gaze. “There is a duty that I must fulfil, and I will stop at nothing to do so.”

His long nails scraped over Starrk’s hierro, crawling from his face down to his neck before stopping right before his Hollow hole, exposed by the open v of his kosode. The weight of his reiatsu was far too weak to make Starrk feel, especially now that his restraints were still lying somewhere on the Sokyouku Hill, but the knowledge of those nails against such a vulnerable spot was nearly enough to make Starrk shiver.

“Even if I must kill you to achieve it.”

Now _that_ was familiar. Starrk looked into those dark-ringed eyes, thinking wryly of Aizen and Ichimaru and even Shunsui, of all those men with strongly-held goals that they would do anything to achieve. They were all similar in how they hid their true motivations and selves behind masks and actions, too. 

He wondered if there was something wrong about him that he seemed to be drawn to this particular type of people in particular. Was it his lack of purpose that drew him towards men who were so driven? Was it his sharp eyes and bald face that pulled him, like metal towards lodestone, towards those who wore masks that he could see through?

Starrk held onto the wrist, feeling the fragile bones underneath the fur of his claws. He gave Muramasa a crooked smile.

“I expect no less,” he said softly. 

Muramasa looked startled again. His hand jerked in Starrk’s grip, and he let go of him, taking another step back. 

“Starrk,” he said. “My name isn’t ‘Arrancar’; it’s Coyote Starrk.”

“You…” the sword started. He shook his head, giving Starrk one last glance before he turned away. “You might be the best gamble I have ever made, Coyote Starrk.”

And with that, he was gone in a flash of _shunpo_. Starrk could still feel his reiatsu and knew that he could give chase, but he decided to leave things alone for now. Whatever Muramasa had set into motion could not be undone, and he had made it clear enough that he would tolerate no attempts to stop him.

So Starrk would take care of the rest of the wolves, but after that… he would see if Muramasa would take up his offer of aid. 

He recognised that aching void in Muramasa’s eyes. And perhaps Starrk was a fool, but he had known desperate loneliness for so long that he would do anything he could to stop anyone else from feeling the same way again. 

***

The very first time this had happened, Rukia hadn’t been there as a witness. So this… this was definitely worse.

Not only had she to witness with her own eyes as her brother – her _trusted, beloved_ brother – beat Renji to the ground, not only had she to hold onto the pieces of her once-beautiful sword in her hands, she had to do all that knowing perfectly well that Byakuya had broken yet another promise. Even though none of them had ever spoken it out loud, it _had_ been a promise: that Byakuya would never keep any secrets from them, that he would tell them what was happening so they would not be inadvertently hurt by the actions he took without their knowledge or consent.

Now she was helpless again, sitting there, unable to move anymore. Her body was still weak from her fight with Sode no Shirayuki, and all she could do was watch as the various zanpaktou fought against the many Captains and Vice-Captains that had appeared. 

Rukia was very sick of only sitting and watching, but there seemed little else that she could do.

She looked around herself, taking deep breaths through gritted teeth to stabilise her vision. Over there, Third Seat Madarame was down, having taken his zanpaktou with him. Just a distance ahead, Captain Soi Fon was taking on two zanpaktou, one of which belonged to Captain Komamura, while the other she didn’t recognise. Further away, Vice-Captain Kira was trying to defeat Kazeshini, Vice-Captain Hisagi’s zanpaktou. On the other end, Fifth Seat Ayasegawa’s reiatsu was flunctuating… or his zanpaktou’s was, she really couldn’t tell because they felt exactly the same.

Turning to that side, she squinted slightly, trying to look at the battle. But something else distracted her: was that…? No, it couldn’t be… it _had_ to be. There was nothing else reported that had that grey fur with streaks of blue lightning coursing through their bodies.

Before she could open her mouth to yell out a warning, they were leaping off of the roof, coming towards her. 

_**SO MANY WEAK ONES HERE!** _

_**A FEAST, A FEAST!** _

_**MINE! ALL OF THEM ARE MINE!** _

“Seriously, what the hell are these?” Renji muttered next to her, staring at the wolves. Rukia narrowed her eyes, trying to focus, but her vision was swimming too much and all of them seemed to meld into one another, making it impossible for her to count.

She swallowed. “They’re Lilynette’s zanpaktou, I think,” she said softly. “And Starrk’s.”

“Isn’t Lilynette supposed to be Starrk’s zanpaktou, or something like that?” Renji still had the energy to sound incredulous. Rukia hated him a little just for that.

“Clearly not.”

“Man, the soutaichou is going to be _pissed_ ,” Renji said, and Rukia was about to tell him that if he had the energy to think about the future, he had to worry about the present when one of the wolves leapt towards them.

Instinctively, she flinched, raising her broken sword in some attempt to protect herself. Her eyes darted around, looking for green hair and eyepatch-like mask fragment, but Lilynette wasn’t here. But… it seemed that Lilynette didn’t need to be, because one of the other wolves was attacking that one. Rukia gaped as they tussled with each other on the ground.

_**MINE. I SAID THEY’RE MINE!** _

_**NO, THEY’RE**_ MINE _!_

They growled at each other, fangs snapping, and Rukia’s eyes widened as she spotted one of the wolves getting far too close to Third Seat Madarame.

“Oy!” Was that really her voice? “Oy, someone else’s getting your food! Over there!”

She hoped that Madarame was too out of it to take offence at being called food. The two wolves stared at her for a moment before following her pointing finger. They growled in tandem – sounding far more than two – before they ran towards the third, knocking it down just as it was diving for the kill.

Rukia had never heard of the multiple manifestations of a single zanpaktou fighting amongst themselves, but she was too thankful for how easily they could be distracted to even bother with explanations.

Sagging slightly, she leaned against Renji’s weight as she let out a sigh. “They’re not going to be distracted for long,” she murmured. “Either one of them will win, or they’ll work together.”

Renji snorted, drawing his arm around her a little. “Eh, we’re not going to die because of these bastards,” he said, sounding way too confident through the exhaustion. “If they come for us, I’ll fight them off.”

“Isn’t Zabimaru already tired?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Even if I don’t have Zabimaru, I still have a sword,” he shook his head. “And hey, I know how to fight with kido!”

“ _You_ know how to fight with kido?” alright, so she still had the energy to sound incredulous. “When did that miracle happen?”

Renji opened his mouth to answer her, but his eyes suddenly widened, and he grabbed her, shoving her behind him. Rukia yelled something incoherent as she went sprawling to the ground, and she stared as Renji held onto his unreleased blade over the open maw of one wolf… another one, because those three were still fighting over Madarame.

She could see that he was already tired, that he couldn’t hold on like this for long, so she prepared her own blade, starting to stand shakily. She wasn’t going to wait until someone else rescued her from her death; not again, not after the first time.

But as Renji’s arms started to shake, she heard a wild cry.

“HiiiiiiiYAAAAAAAH!” 

A vision in green and grey swooped down. Rukia stared at Lilynette grabbed onto the wolf’s upper jaw with one claw before she tore into the insides of its mouth. 

“Duck!” the Arrancar yelled at them, and Rukia did so immediately, yanking Renji down with her as he was still staring in shock. She watched through her hair as Lilynette yanked the howling wolf’s head backwards entirely and sliced through its throat, cutting it off mid-howl. Blood arced over the space where her and Renji’s head had been, splattering to the ground.

The wolf started to fall to the ground. Before it could even hit, however, it was starting to dissipate, turning into blue light before being sucked into the sword by Lilynette’s side. The girl was standing there, panting hard, and Rukia noticed, for the first time, that she had gone to change her clothes. She was less bloody than she was the last time Rukia had seen her, though… though it might just be the fact that her entire arms were covered in fur now, and she stood slightly hunched, as if the knees beneath the new yukata had changed until she couldn’t stand straight anymore.

Somehow, the entire look reminded Rukia of some of the pictures she had seen on the front covers of the magazines in Urahara’s shop, back in the Living World; the ones that had ‘restricted’ in large, red font in front.

“Kuchiki!” Lilynette said, not turning around. “You alright?”

Rukia nodded, then realised she wouldn’t be able to see it. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Good,” Lilynette said. “Give me a bit to beat down those stupid bastards, then I’ll come scold you about being out of bed.”

Then she was gone, leaping towards the three wolves surrounding Madarame. Rukia would watch her, but Renji suddenly gripped her by the shoulder, pulling her close.

“Rukia…” Renji said, growl-whispering into her ear. “What the hell is with you and that girl?”

“Huh?” Rukia stared at him, uncomprehending. “Lilynette is a friend.” When Renji continued to stare at her with narrowed eyes, she sighed, elaborating, “She spends a lot of time at the Thirteenth with Ukitake-taichou, learning how to read, and we talked a few times when we meet there.”

She didn’t mention that Lilynette seemed to have been saving her since the first time they met; not only that, she seemed to do it so naturally, without even making any mention of it. Unlike Renji or even Ichigo, she never once _said_ that she was going to rescue Rukia, or save her, or any other rendition of those words. She simply did it, and dismissed it even before Rukia could begin to think about thanking her. 

There had been plenty of people who had saved her, but most of them did so in a way she could dismiss as them repaying a debt, or being part of their long friendship. But Lilynette rescued her the first time even before they knew each other, and Rukia couldn’t dismiss that, no matter how hard she tried.

“Hah,” Renji said, sounding oddly thoughtful.

Shea was about to ask him what he was thinking about – because whatever it was, it was wrong, since this was Renji – but Lilynette bounded over right away. Her arms were covered in more blood, and Rukia noticed that there were no more wolves lurking around Madarame.

“What are you doing out of bed?” she narrowed her eyes. Rukia could have sworn that her ears were pressed flat on her head, like a wolf’s…

No, she really could swear she saw it, because the ears were _there_ and _real_. Right on top of Lilynette’s green hair were two wolf-like ears, grey-furred with pink insides, and Rukia knew she was gaping. She swallowed, trying to regain some kind of coherence, something aside from the sheer silliness of what she was about to say.

But all she could manage was a: “… Cute.”

“Eh?” Lilynette stared at her.

The sight of that widened red eye, matched with those ears and the face that still resembled a twelve-year-old girl’s… Rukia lurched forward, ignoring Renji’s arms or his hiss of “ _oy, Rukia!_ ” before she gripped onto those ears and rubbed them beneath her fingers.

“Oy, Kuchiki, what are you—”

They really felt as soft as they looked, and Rukia rubbed even harder, thumbs sliding across the insides. The fur there felt so _silky_ …

“Ow, that _hurts_!”

Her hands flew away immediately, and she sank back to her knees, looking around. She hoped that no one had seen what she just did, because being distracted by an ally’s cuteness – even though the cuteness was absolutely lethal – was just… embarrassing. (Renji didn’t count. She had too much blackmail on him for him to be able to embarrass her with anything.)

There was an apology on the tip of her tongue that died the moment she looked at Lilynette’s eyes again. Lilynette was staring at her as if she had never seen anyone like Rukia before. She swallowed visibly.

“Cute…?” she asked, her voice small. “You think that I’m… cute, like this?”

“… Huh?” Rukia wasn’t the only one saying this. Renji was far louder than she was; she shoved an elbow into his side.

“I do think you’re cute,” she nodded. “Especially those ears of yours.”

Lilynette looked at her, uncertainty clear, before she raised a hand to her hair. She pulled through a few strands before she jerked and stared at her own hand.

“Even… even my arms and my hands… my claws? Even my feet?”

Rukia looked down. 

Ah. She knew what Lilynette was worried about now. She had felt something similar before, when she was first adopted by the Kuchiki: all people saw was the Kuchiki name, and none of them saw her as _Rukia_ , a barely-trained Academy student who graduated far too early.

Even though the situations were different, one thing was clear: Lilynette might look strange right now, but she wasn’t a monster; just like Rukia might be a Kuchiki, but she was _Rukia_ as well.

Reaching forward, ignoring Renji’s warning glare, she reached out and took Lilynette’s wrists into her hands. Slowly, she stroked over the fur.

“You’re very cute,” she assured, smiling crookedly. “Even though these claws are sharp… they’re only used to help me… to help _us_. So I don’t think that you’re a monster at all.”

Lilynette’s smile wobbled, and she ducked her head. Her new mask fragment – Rukia reminded herself to ask her about that – let her hair fall over her eye now. Rukia used to moment to glare at Renji, jerking her head towards Lilynette. Renji stared at her, incredulous, and she frowned even harder until he gave in.

“Yeah,” he said, keeping his voice level somehow. He reached out and placed a cautious hand on Lilynette’s shoulder. “You’re not a monster, because no one who helps us can be one.” He paused for a moment. “I think you’re weird, though, because Rukia clearly likes you, and anyone whom Rukia likes is clearly a weirdo.”

Infuriated, Rukia punched him on the arm. “Shut up, Renji! Just because you don’t have the taste to appreciate Chappy…” she hissed.

“I’m telling the truth!” Renji yelped. “And don’t hit me when I’m already injured! When _you_ are already injured!”

A small, sharp sound rang out. Rukia blinked, taking a moment to realise that it came from Lilynette, and that it was a _giggle_. She turned to look at the girl again to find that her shoulders were shaking, though when she looked up, her eye was shining with tears.

“Thank you,” she said, looking at Rukia first then Renji. “You two are… very good people, to say that.”

They were good people just to not see her as a monster? What kind of people had Lilynette been meeting with, and where could Rukia find them so she could have a stern _word_ with them?

Before Rukia could say anything, Renji interrupted her. His hand squeezed on one small shoulder, shaking Lilynette a little. “Look, the people who don’t see you as who you are, but just what you are… they’re not worth it,” he said firmly. “Trust us on that, alright?”

Ah, right. If Rukia had problems with people seeing her as only ‘Kuchiki’, then Renji had problems with people only seeing him as a ‘Rukongai dog’. Both of them knew far too well what it was like to only be seen as what they were, instead of who they were.

Lilynette wiped her eyes, nodding, and she was about to say something before she stopped, single eye narrowing at a spot above their heads. Rukia turned.

Up there, a Garganta was opening.

_What now?  
_


	14. Her Dirty Paws, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zaraki receives a proposition. Rukia starts figuring out something. Starrk makes an unwise offer that he’s going to stick to anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second half of a chapter. If you clicked on a link to bring you here, please go back to Chapter 13 or else nothing at all will make sense. ♥

Zaraki burst out in a roaring, war-like cackle the very moment he stepped out of the battle, landing on some rooftop. Immediately, he started slashing, the little girl on his shoulder perfectly secure while she giggled something like a “welcome home, Ken-chan”.

Grimmjow’s eyes followed him, lips quirking involuntarily into a smirk. Zaraki lived for the fight, and nothing else but the fact; his bloodthirst was even stronger than his, and that was saying something, since he knew that he had more than earned the epithet of the Espada of Destruction. 

They came back to Soul Society just to deposit Yachiru, and landed here because Grimmjow had no idea how to navigate the maze that called itself Seireitei and so homed in to Madarame and Ayasegawa, the two signatures he _did_ know. He figured that they were at the Eleventh, which meant that they could drop Yachiru off and get back to the business of fucking on the sands now that Neliel and Zaraki had come to a draw on their fight.

But apparently not.

Cocking an eyebrow at his mate, Grimmjow grinned out of the corner of his mouth. “Looks like the Shinigami is dealing an invasion of some sort,” he stated the obvious. “Should we help?”

“It might serve to better diplomatic relations,” Neliel began, sounding thoughtful. “Harribel is constantly afraid that the Shinigami might turn on us, so if we do something now, they might feel that they can trust us more. Then again, if we show them our skills, then we’re damaging the element of surprise we might have if they invaded.”

Grimmjow didn’t say a word. He knew now that when Neliel get that particular upward tilt to the side of her mouth that she was teasing him.

After a moment, she laughed, drawing her sword. “Go on then,” she jerked her head, grinning. “It might be a good way to waste some time until Zaraki-taichou is finished.”

He knew that his smile was ridiculously wide, and he shook his head as he drew his own sword. Scanning the scenery from their vantage point in mid-air, he looked for Shinigami who were fighting the weird bastards who were their enemies this time. But first…

“Neliel?”

“Mm?”

Turning towards her, he looked her straight in the eye. “Every single damned moment I spent courting you and waiting for you, it’s worth it. Even if I had to wait ten times as long, I would’ve. You’re fucking _perfect_.”

Before she could reply, Grimmjow was already leaping towards Ayasegawa. He didn’t need her acknowledgment; he could already feel her pleasure at his words through the mating bond. She didn’t really need his words either, but he liked saying them, simply because she had been taken from him once, and he’d really rather it not happen again.

Besides… those words were true: she _was_ perfect for him. Grimmjow wasn’t human, wasn’t a Shinigami, so he didn’t bother with stupid words like love. What he had with Neliel was something far simpler: she was the calm centre of his constant sandstorm, anchoring and driving him at the same time; she didn’t like fighting, but she was willing to do so if she had reason and, more importantly, she never tried to stop him.

If some bastard tried to say that this wasn’t perfection, then Grimmjow would introduce him to his damned claws.

He landed on the rooftop where Ayasegawa was fighting with some half-naked thing with… was that _feathers_? Grimmjow blinked. He had seen some freaky things in his life – Szayel came to mind – but while this thing couldn’t _quite_ match that particular bastard, he did… come very close.

“Oy, you have a name?” he said, grinning at the thing.

“Grimmjow, don’t you dare interfere!” Ayasegawa shouted, his voice half-strangled.

Sparing half a glance behind him, Grimmjow snorted at the sight of Ayasegawa tangled in some weird gleaming tentacles. “People who are trussed up like a damned turkey don’t get to have an opinion,” he stated flatly, snorting. “I’m being polite here, asking your opponent for his damned name so I know who it is I’m beating to the ground.”

“Ruri’iro Kujaku,” Feathers-Guy said.

“ _Fuji_ Kujaku,” Ayasegawa said at the same time.

Grimmjow blinked. He might not be the sharpest crayon in the box, and he might not have a great memory, but he knew that name. The knowledge was on the tip of his tongue… but eh, it didn’t matter.

“Well, some-colour-or-another Kujaku,” he said. “I’m Grimmjow Jaegarjaquez, and I’m going to _destroy you_.”

Ayasegawa was making some kind of choking noise that sounded strangely like laughter, but Grimmjow ignored him. He sliced through the tentacles holding Ayasegawa with one swift stroke of his sword, feeling it give way beneath his restrained power. It was obviously made of some kind of reiatsu, but he wasn’t going to bother figuring out what it was. And he was immediately leaping at the Kujaku guy, snarling in anticipation for a good fight.

Then the tentacles snapped around his body. They felt strangely cold… and were making him colder. Grimmjow knew what it was immediately, and he _growled_ , rage tinging the corner of his eyes. Aizen’s room had felt exactly the same, and he despised anything that reminded him of that fucker the Shinigami didn’t kill.

There was only one way to get out of reiatsu-sucking things like this. Grimmjow pulled hard at his hand, fingers curling like a claw on top of his unsheathed blade.

“GRIMMJOW, YOU FUCKING IDIOT, DON’T YOU DARE TO RELEASE!” 

That was… Lilynette’s voice? Where the hell was that annoying little kid? No matter. He wasn’t going to listen.

“ _Grind, Pantera!_ ”

He waited for the burst of power that would overload these stupid things, but… there wasn’t anything. Instead, there was only smoke exploding from his sword, slowly drifting away from him. It was slowly coalescing, forming into a shape... Grimmjow narrowed his eyes. He had a feeling that he wasn’t going to like what was going to appear, and it wasn’t just because of the sheer aura of sheer _hatred_ that felt so much like the taste of his own reiatsu.

The wind cleared. What was standing there _looked_ like an Adjuchas, a white tiger with dark stripes all over its body, with a mask with two horns curving up from above its eyes and a mouth full of sharp fangs. Its hair was as white as the armour covering its body, streaming down its back, half-covering the stripes. And, like most feline-type Adjuchas, it had a tail too, long and thin and covered in more white armour, swishing constantly behind him.

**_GRIMMJOW_** , it said, the voice echoing and somehow familiar. **_I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS A LONG TIME_**.

It leapt towards him, its claws extended. Grimmjow growled, straining at the tentacles still holding him back, but the creature tore through them for him, freeing him. Then claws dug into Grimmjow’s white jacket, pinning him down fully on the ground.

**_DON’T YOU RECOGNISE ME? I GAVE YOU THE HARDEST FIGHT YOU’VE EVER HAD BEFORE YOU MET THESE_ SHINIGAMI _._**

**__**Like the damned cliché of a lightbulb appearing in his head, Grimmjow _remembered_. There was once, a long time ago, a tiger-like Adjuchas. He was stronger than Grimmjow was at the time, but Grimmjow had fought him nonetheless, and nearly died in the fight. But he had killed him first. Killed and eaten him… and it had all happened _decades_ ago, so this bastard should’ve been digested by now.

He snarled, throwing himself forward, smashing his forehead against the striped mask. The Hollow roared with anger and pain, falling back. And Grimmjow was moving by instinct, grabbing his still-sealed sword, gripping it tight and snarling at the creature that had came out of the blade.

“What the hell are you?!” he demanded. “You should be dead by now, broken down into nothing but reishi!”

The Hollow threw its head back and laughed, the cackling echoing in the space around them. 

**_YOU CAN’T GET RID OF ME SO EASILY_** , the thing mocked. **_DO YOU KNOW WHAT AN ARRANCAR’S ZANPAKTOU IS?_**

“Our power in a sealed form,” Grimmjow replied impatiently. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

**_YOUR POWER COMES FROM THE SOULS YOU EAT, HOLLOW,_ ** the tiger mocked, starting to circle Grimmjow, a predator prowling around its prey. **_YOUR ZANPAKTOU IS THE SEALED FORM OF_ ALL _OF THE SOULS YOU HAVE EATEN. AND IN YOUR ZANPAKTOU, THE STRONGEST, THE MOST DOMINANT SOUL… BECOMES YOUR SWORD SPIRIT._**

Grimmjow stared at the sword in his hand. The pieces were clicking together. The tiger in front of him… this damned thing that was looking at him like he was prey when Grimmjow had killed him once already… this was _Pantera_. This was his sword, given form into some bastard of a Hollow that should have been dead and gone decades ago.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Grimmjow saw Ayasegawa clashing with the Kujaku guy. So was that freaky thing with the feathers and the tentacles _Ayasegawa’s_ sword? … Whatever, Grimmjow had bigger fish to fry now.

**_I’LL KILL YOU, GRIMMJOW_** , the thing was saying, sounding far too gleeful and assured. **_I’LL KILL YOU, AND TAKE OVER AS A DOMINANT SOUL. THEN_ YOU _WILL BE TRAPPED IN THE SWORD_**.

Slowly, Grimmjow started to smile. He fucking loved it when the people he was fighting told him precisely just what they were looking for with him. It made things so much clearer.

Raising a hand, he beckoned his fingers. “Come on then, _Pantera_ ,” he drawled, smirking when he saw the tiger’s eyes narrow from beneath its mask. “See if you can back up that boast.”

The thing growled, and charged at him. Grimmjow laughed, dodging extremely familiar blue blades before he fired a Cero. So the thing now had _his_ powers in his released form, huh?

Well, Grimmjow always wanted to know who would win if he fought against himself. No time like the present to find out.

***

LIlynette landed beside her again with a small _thump_. 

“That stupid bastard Grimmjow!” she yelled, lips already drawn back into a snarl. “Why the hell is it that he only has _one_ thing to fight from his sword? Why is it that only Starrk and I have this fucking _hoard_ of wolves? Does the universe hate us or something? Did we do something wrong while we were alive? We didn’t do any fucking thing wrong, fucking universe! If you want to give someone a hoard, give it to Grimmjow! He’s the one who would enjoy it, the fucking bastard!”

Rukia reached forward and clamped her hand over Lilynette’s mouth. If only, she winced, to stop the flood of swears that were tumbling out. The girl swore more than the entire Eleventh Division _and_ Inuzuri put together.

She determinedly ignored Renji’s soft snickers.

Lilynette stared at her, still growling beneath the hand, but Rukia merely looked at her. “What happened?”

“Grimmjow released his sword,” a second voice answered. Rukia turned. “And instead of going into his released form, an Adjuchas appeared, calling itself his sword spirit.”

Given the high-pitched voice, she was expecting a young child, or a teenaged girl, but a tall, statuesque woman with long green hair met her eyes. There was a half-skull seated on top of her head like a helmet, and she was stunningly beautiful. 

“What do you mean, a hoard?” the stranger asked.

Lilynette’s eyes flashed, and Rukia knew that she was going to start swearing again, so she answered hurriedly: “Lilynette – and Starrk’s – swords released _hundreds_ of Hollow wolves.” She paused, then decided to offer a little more information. “They didn’t seem particularly intelligent.”

Finally Lilynette seemed to get tired of being forcibly muted. She yanked Rukia’s hand down, and Rukia let her. “Well, Neliel, do you think the universe hates me and Starrk?”

Neliel looked at her for a moment before she snorted, shaking her head. “No, but I think I have an explanation that will make more sense,” she said quietly. “Grimmjow told me of your powers, about how Starrk could call upon hoards of wolves that were split from his own soul. I don’t think he was right; I don’t think it was _his_ soul – or yours, for the matter.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s all the Hollows you have… accidentally assimilated,” Neliel said, exerting a physical effort to put things delicately. “Because the two of you didn’t actually hunt them down, kill them, and eat them as most Hollows do, I believe those Hollows remained almost entirely whole inside you.”

Her explanation was cut short when Yachiru bounded in, grinning. “You should take cover,” she informed them cheerfully. “Ken-chan is going have _fun_!”

Then she left just as abruptly. Rukia supposed that she should be thankful that the tiny Vice-Captain had the courtesy to warn them, but she had no idea what she meant.

Apparently Lilynette did, because Rukia found herself being shoved backwards. She blinked, and Lilynette was glaring at Neliel, barking, “Get behind me!”

There was no time for Rukia to protest the rough treatment, because at the time, Captain Zaraki’s reiatsu simply _exploded_ … though she only knew that from watching buildings being blown away, from _Captain Soi Fon_ being blown backwards… from behind the huge blue dome of reiatsu that Lilynette had thrown upwards. Rukia couldn’t even feel the weight of Captain Zaraki’s reiatsu; instead, she felt Lilynette’s, and it was warm and protective, nothing like a Hollow’s at all. 

Distantly, she wondered how the hell the Shinigami had won the war against the Espada if the _weaker_ half of the Primera was capable of matching the monstrous power of Zaraki Kenpachi.

The four of them – and Yachiru – were the only ones left unburied by the rubble caused by Captain Zaraki’s single strike. Rukia stared at the ruins around her and checked her own breathing: it was as steady as ever. She didn’t even feel _breathless_. She exchanged a glance with Renji, and the shock he saw in his eyes matched her own.

“Lilynette…” she started. “Was that… when I taught you how to shape your reiatsu, did you learn how to do that?”

“Kind of,” Lilynette answered, her voice rather flat. “I never got a chance to try it out until now, though.”

“As I was saying,” Neliel continued, sounding incredibly amused. “Lilynette and Starrk must be incredibly powerful souls by themselves to be able to control so many souls without having to dominate them through the usual methods.”

“I’d really rather not talk about that anymore,” Lilynette said in the same flat voice. “And I’d rather no one tell anyone else about what you just saw. About the full extent of my power.”

“Why?” Renji asked, speaking up for the first time ever since Lilynette dropped back down from where she went to check on Grimmjow.

Lilynette turned to look at all of them. Her smile was soft and her eyes so incredibly old. “I don’t want to be used as a tool anymore,” she said. “I don’t want Starrk to be used as a tool either.”

Rukia opened her mouth, trying to reassure her that she _wouldn’t_ be, but she stopped herself. _Could_ she actually assure Lilynette of that? She came to Seireitei voluntarily, and she held no illusions about the place. Every single person had their place, had their purpose: they were all soldiers within the Gotei Thirteen, and what was a soldier aside from a tool, a cog in the giant war machine constantly turned towards the Hollows?

She swallowed, and couldn’t find any words to say.

But Lilynette didn’t seem to be finished.

“Neliel,” she said, looking at the woman. “I know you won’t keep a secret from your mate for someone you barely know, so just… tell Grimmjow this: I’m not going to fight him.”

“Why?” Neliel asked.

“I fight only to protect people,” Lilynette said. Her smile grew crooked, a hint of feralness at the edges. “If Grimmjow decides to threaten the ones I care about to goad me to a fight, he will get one.”

She took a deep breath. “And I’ll kill him.”

Neliel’s eyes widened. Rukia could understand the reaction: she was shocked too. Was this really the girl who nearly trembled in front of her and Renji when they told her that they didn’t see her as a monster?

“Can you really do it?” Neliel asked, a definite challenge in her voice.

“Starrk can’t,” Lilynette said, and her crooked smile widened. “But I’m more of a Hollow than he is, than he is ever capable of being, and I will do _anything_ to protect my pack.”

There was a long moment when the two Arrancar simply stared at each other. Then Neliel nodded sharply. “I’ll make sure that he doesn’t bother with you and Starrk then,” she said softly. 

… No, Rukia realised. No, this _was_ the same girl. She had no idea of Lilynette’s past, had never thought to ask, and she regretted it now. Because Lilynette was like the wolf she resembled right now: a lone wolf who had finally found a pack, and who was so _desperate_ to keep it with her that she would do anything 

“Though, if you want to be absolutely sure he wouldn’t,” Neliel continued. “You should join the alliance that Harribel proposed.”

“Starrk and I are still thinking about that,” Lilynette waved a hand, turning away.

Neliel nodded. “Alright.” Then she jumped, vanishing up to the rooftops.

Dismissing Neliel from her mind and ignoring Renji’s presence, Rukia went with her instincts. She took a step forward and wrapped her arms around Lilynette’s thin shoulders, hugging her tightly from the back. She felt the girl tense beneath her arms, but she held on despite knowing that it could be dangerous. 

“I’ll grow stronger,” she whispered into one of Lilynette’s cutely-furred ears. “And Renji is strong too. All those you care about… we’re all strong. So _don’t_ kill just for our sakes.” She held on even tighter as she felt Lilynette start to relax in her arms. “It’ll hurt you, and I don’t think I’d like seeing you hurt.”

“Kuchiki…” Lilynette started, half-turning around.

Rukia grinned, placing her hand over the girl’s mouth. “Rukia,” she corrected.

“What?” Lilynette blinked.

“Call me Rukia,” she said. “In Soul Society, our friends and important people have permission to call us by our given names. So call me Rukia, alright?”

Lilynette stared at her, single eye wide, before she smiled. It was a much sweeter expression this time, tinged with shyness, and Rukia felt herself smiling as well.

“Rukia,” Lilynette murmured, as if tasting the name. “I like it.”

Finally, Rukia pulled away from her. 

“I’ll…” Lilynette started. “I’ll go make sure that people aren’t still buried under rubble.” She made to turn, then stopped, flashing Rukia a grin and a thumbs up. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you in my sight. I have to bring you back to the hospital, after all.”

Rukia found herself laughing, turning slowly towards her brother and his battle with Captain Zaraki. Her heart still hurt from her brother’s betrayal, from his broken promise. Her hands still felt cold where they were wrapped around Sode no Shirayuki’s broken form. But somehow… it wasn’t so bad now that Lilynette could still make her laugh.

Renji’s hand slammed down on her shoulder the moment Lilynette was out of earshot, digging through the rubble.

“You know,” he started, his tone conversational in a way that had Rukia’s guard up immediately. “I always thought that I’m getting out of the brotherly shovel talk duties because you were mourning Shiba-fukutaichou. And recently, I was starting to think that I wasn’t going to get away from it, because there’s _Ichigo_ , you see. I was preparing a speech and everything.”

“Renji,” Rukia said very slowly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Let me finish,” Renji said, unperturbed, which just irritated Rukia more. “So you see, I thought it’s because of Shiba-fukutaichou. I didn’t realise that it’s because you like _girls_.”

“What.”

Renji was giving her his wide, idiotic grin when he knew he had something to hold over her head. “In Soul Society, our friends and important people have permission to call us by our given names,” he imitated in a high voice that sounded nothing like her at all. “That’s a really lacklustre love confession right there. What happened to classics like ‘I love you and I want you to stay with me forever, Lilynette-chan~’?”

Rukia punched him straight in the jaw.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?!”

She grabbed him by the collar and dragged him down until he was eye-level to her. “Look,” she hissed, eyes darting to where Lilynette was, confirming that she didn’t hear the entire ridiculous conversation. “I don’t know where you got that stupid idea from, but I don’t like her that way.”

Renji only rolled his eyes at her, still grinning. “Rukia,” he said, sounding patronising. “I knew you since you are smaller than you are now. Which, I admit, is pretty damned hard to do. But I’ve known you for _forever_.”

His smile suddenly softened, and his eyes grew serious. “If you don’t like her right now, then you’re pretty close to it, aren’t you?”

“This is a _really_ bad place for something like this!” Rukia said, barely managing to keep her voice down.

“I know, I know,” he said, patting her hands gently. “But think about what I said, alright? 

“Give me a reason why I should,” she demanded.

Renji looked at a moment before he shrugged. “You get yourself into, like, a crapton of trouble for a midget,” he teased. “And I think she’ll be able to get you out of it, if she can’t stop you from barrelling into them.”

Rukia froze.

Because Renji was _right_. She was just thinking about how Lilynette was _always_ there for her whenever she got into trouble ever since the very first time they met. Even on the Sokyouku Hill, surrounded by so many people, Lilynette had come to _her_ immediately. It was… immensely irritating, to think that she had a girl who looked and (sometimes) acted younger than she did as a bodyguard.

But at the same time, it was reassuring. It was even more reassuring to know that a lot of Lilynette’s control over her power and a little of how she used her sword, she had learned from Rukia herself.

Looking at Renji in front of her, she thought of Lilynette, and of Ichigo. It was ironic, really, that the people who had first depended on her for her knowledge and guidance were now the ones stronger than she was, who now constantly protected her. Rukia was almost to the point of throwing her hands up and giving in to fate, that she would _never_ be as strong as they were.

More to the point, though, she had never acted with Renji and Ichigo like how she just acted with Lilynette. She saw the two men – _boys_ , really – as her younger brothers: beloved, but incredibly stupid, and definitely not candidates for any form of attraction. It felt as wrong as being attracted to her actual brother.

She dragged her hand through her hair. Her head hurt.

“I’ll think about it,” she said gruffly, turning away. “Now pay attention to Nii-sama, fukutaichou-san.”

She jabbed Renji in the ribs for emphasis.

“Ow!” 

_Good_ , she thought viciously. Renji deserved the pain for giving her such a damned headache by running his mouth off.

***

The moonlight caught strands of Ukitake’s white hair, shimmering over the strands until they resembled a still lake. Shunsui let his gaze rest on the beautiful sight, urging his mind to appreciate it… but it wasn’t working.

He swallowed back a sigh, leaning back on his hands as he tipped his head up to stare at the half-moon in the sky. He had always been good at waiting, at being patient, but now he found himself practically trembling with anxiety. He could still practically feel the warmth and weight of Starrk’s body in his arms. The salt of his skin lingered on his tongue. The scent of him, of Shunsui’s own soap overlaid with hot sands, had settled into his lungs and tattooed itself on the insides.

This entire crisis was becoming a troublesome bother that he wanted over with entirely. If this was over, then he could have Starrk back where he belonged; then they could spend days together like they had the bare hour, and Shunsui would be able to learn every inch of Starrk’s skin, every single type of sound that he could make. 

He swallowed an explosive sigh, dragging his hand through his hair almost hard enough to dislodge the hairpins.

Honestly, he was getting dangerously close to prioritising sentiment over practicality. Shouldn’t he have learned that lesson long ago?

“You’re practically making the air vibrate,” Ukitake said, his tone dry and amused. “It’s hard for me to meditate when you’re doing that.”

“It’s hard for _me_ to concentrate when your pretty hair is distracting me,” Shunsui retorted.

“You have the peace of mind to look at my hair?” Ukitake teased. “Such a pleasant surprise.”

Shunsui chuckled, but before he could think up of a counter, another voice rang out between them.

“Kyouraku-taichou.”

He turned, automatically half-grinning and half-leering at the woman standing at the door.

“Ah, my darling Nanao-chan~” he singsonged, already standing up. “Are you here to help save two old men from our dreadful boredom?”

Nanao-chan rolled her eyes, but the tension in her form melted away almost immediately – exactly as Shunsui had planned. She strode into the room, nodding to Ukitake, before setting down her clipboard. It looked particularly heavily-laden with notes, and Shunsui grinned from beneath his hat.

“You asked me to look for the name ‘Muramasa’ amongst our records, taichou,” Nanao-chan said briskly. “And while I couldn’t find any sword with the name, I did find something interesting.”

Shunsui cocked his head slightly to the side. “Oh? What is it?”

Chewing on the corner of her lip, Nanao-chan started to flip through her clipboard. “As you said, I looked through the records of the seated officers of every Division,” she began. “At first, I could find nothing at all, but… something seemed odd. It’s less what I found than what I _didn’t_ find, and I suspect that there had been some sort of cover-up involved with the incident regarding the zanpaktou Muramasa and his master.”

She pushed the clipboard towards him. “During Kuchiki Ginrei’s time as the Captain of the Sixth Division, he had a Third Seat whose name seemed to have been entirely erased from the records.”

Suddenly, all of the pieces fell into place. He exchanged a glance with Ukitake, seeing in those widened brown eyes that his old friend had came to the same conclusion as he had. The incident hadn’t been particularly significant – just another arrogant Shinigami with too much power than he knew how to deal with – and Shunsui had simply forgotten about it as the years had gone by.

“Say no more, Nanao-chan,” he said quietly, reaching out to place his hand on top of hers on the clipboard. “We know what it is that Muramasa wants now.”

“Muramasa lied to us, I believe,” Ukitake said, contemplatively. “He didn’t trap Genryuusai-sensei.”

“No,” Shunsui said grimly. “The situation is probably the other way around.”

Nanao-chan blinked. “Taichou?” she asked, looking at him with wide, confused eyes.

Shunsui gave her a small, reassuring smile. “This happened more than two hundred years ago, so it’s before your time, Nanao-chan,” he said, giving her a small smile. “Ukitake and I will take care of this, so you don’t have to worry.”

Ukitake gave Nanao-chan a fleeting smile before he turned back to him. “This explains why Byakuya is siding with the zanpaktou as well, Kyouraku,” he said. “We’ll have to tell the others.”

“There is a big battle going on at the Second Division,” Nanao-chan offered. She looked uncertain for a moment, as if she was going to insist on coming along, and Shunsui spoke quickly before she could form the words.

“I need you to figure out more information about that specific incident, Nanao-chan,” he said quietly. “What has happened to Muramasa’s master afterwards? What is his punishment?”

Actually, Shunsui already knew – he had been the one who suggested the seal to Yamamoto himself. If a man like Kuchiki Kouga was thrown into the Maggot’s Nest, he would have started a rebellion eventually; it had been a much better idea to simply keep him in the Living World, away from Soul Society. Especially since Karakura Town had been such an isolated little place a hundred years ago. People used to be so much more suspicious back then.

But this would be a good way of keeping Nanao-chan out of danger and to help her feel useful at the same time. 

Ukitake was giving him a wry look, and Shunsui knew what he was thinking – his overprotectiveness towards the people important to him was annoying. Still, he couldn’t help himself: every time he tried to convince himself that it would be good for Nanao-chan to have some combat experience, he remembered the devastation he felt when Lisa-chan just _didn’t come back_ one day.

Briefly, he wondered if his attraction to Starrk had something to do with how powerful the Arrancar was; Shunsui would never really need to worry about his physical safety. 

Nanao-chan stared at him for a moment before she nodded, looking a little resigned. “Yes, taichou.”

“I’m depending on you, Nanao-chan,” Shunsui said lightly. He picked up his straw hat from the ground before yanking it onto his head.

“Let’s go, Ukitake.”

When they arrived at the Second Division, they were met by a complete mess. Shunsui looked at the sheer destruction around them, whistling lightly under his breath. He looked around him, noticing that almost everyone was here: even Retsu-senpai was standing there, directing members of her Division to cart away members of the wounded.

He saw Lilynette-chan first. She was standing with Rukia-chan, hunched over Abarai, who was lying prone at their feet. Before either Ukitake or Shunsui could call out to her, she spotted them, coming over.

“The two of you are late,” she groused almost immediately. Shunsui’s lips quirked up at her version of a greeting.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “We were waiting looking for information.”

“Well, I suppose you’re both too old to help with the fighting,” she huffed in reply. “So did you find anything?”

“We did,” Ukitake answered this time. “But I’d rather only say this once, so would you gather everyone here who is still in fighting form?”

Lilynette looked at them for a moment before she nodded. After a moment, she came back, bringing Rukia-chan in tow… and only Rukia-chan.

“I don’t know where Kenpachi and Yachiru got to,” she started before either Captain could ask. “Grimmjow is still fighting his sword, and I think Neliel’s more interested in watching him than to help us, so they’re both lost causes. Everyone else’s down for the count.”

“I sent Renji off to be healed,” Rukia-chan volunteered. “He inhaled more of the poison than I had.”

“Poison?” Ukitake burst out immediately.

“From Kurotsuchi-taichou’s zanpaktou,” the petite girl clarified. “It attacked us just a few minutes ago, Ukitake-taichou.”

“I didn’t get to the red pineapple in time to shield him,” Lilynette cut in, interrupting Ukitake before he could fuss over his subordinate even more. “But I managed to make sure that it didn’t touch Rukia, so she can still fight.”

Shunsui barely managed to stop himself from raising an eyebrow. What had just happened that changed ‘Kuchiki’ into ‘Rukia’, and why wasn’t Rukia-chan herself protesting the name? He would have expected her to, given her stickler for Kuchiki-esque formality. And there was that fact that Lilynette seemed to be sticking very closely to the other girl… Shunsui hid his smile beneath his hat.

This was an interesting development.

“So why is this information you had that made you two old men so late, huh?” Lilynette asked.

“Actually, I’m interested in that too,” a familiar voice interrupted. “And I have some information of my own to share in exchange.”

“Yoruichi,” Ukitake greeted the woman as she approached them. Shunsui merely gave her a small smile. He was getting impatient with all the delays; who knew what Muramasa had been up to while everyone else had been distracted with battling the zanpaktou he had supposedly liberated?

He opened his mouth, but Lilynette reached out and grabbed him. “Wait,” she said, her eye narrowing.

Shunsui blinked. But the reason for Lilynette’s sudden interruption was clear: Starrk was suddenly there, right next to her. 

“Now you can start,” Lilynette said, grinning with a certain satisfaction as she let go. Shunsui barely heard her, busy taking in the appearance of the man who had been occupying his thoughts. The new clothes that Shunsui had lent him were stained with blood again, but he wasn’t drenched with it like he had before. The fur that had reached his wrists the last time now reached his elbows, and the weight of his reiatsu was heavy as it was whenever they trained without the restraints on. 

“Shunsui,” Starrk said, and Shunsui couldn’t help the widening of his smile at the sound of his name from Starrk’s lips. In that moment, he wanted more than anything to touch Starrk, to feel beneath his own hands that he _was_ truly alright. And… to simply soak in his warmth and his presence.

But now wasn’t the time.

He concentrated instead on telling the rest what he knew about Kuchiki Kouga, taking note of their reactions. The moment he said the name, Yoruichi’s eyes widened in recognition, and Rukia-chan was blinking as if everything just made sense all at once. Shunsui didn’t need to read minds to know what was going through her head.

“So Muramasa’s final goal is likely to free his master,” Ukitake concluded their joint speech. “Given what we currently know, it seems more likely that Genryuusai-sensei had in fact barricaded himself to stop Muramasa from getting knowledge of the seal’s location and how to break it.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“Well, I came here to tell you that I found out Yamamoto-soutaichou is,” Yoruichi said, sounding thoughtful. “I thought that we might have to break him out, but given this, that would be a terrible idea.”

Shunsui nodded. This was their dilemma: they might know what Muramasa’s goal was, but how were they to stop him from reaching it while stopping the crisis that was going on?

“Can we give him what he wants so badly?” Starrk asked suddenly. 

All five pairs of eyes turned to him. Starrk blinked, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hakama, instantly hunching his shoulders at the attention.

“Something must have happened for them to be separated, because a zanpaktou shouldn’t be wandering around without his master, right?” he said, clearly choosing his words carefully. “If we let them be reunited, then…”

“Starrk-san,” Ukitake began.

Starrk shook his head. “I know that Kuchiki Kouga is dangerous,” he said quietly. “I’m not saying that he should be freed entirely. But… just temporarily, for Muramasa to be reunited to him, before we seal them again, but this time together?”

Ukitake blinked.

Shunsui cocked his head to the side. “What gave you the idea that something like this would work, Starrk-san?”

Starrk looked at him for a moment before he gave him a small, sheepish smile. “I met him,” he said simply. “I could see it in his eyes that he’s hurting a great deal from his separation from his master. And… I don’t think he deserves to keep suffering like that.”

This man… Hollow or not, Starrk had the softest heart Shunsui had ever known, and his best friend was _Ukitake_. That, coupled with the way he was looking at all of them from underneath his eyelids, was almost enough to break Shunsui’s control. He wanted to kiss him.

Instead, he placed a hand on Ukitake’s arm, stilling the protest he knew was coming. “Well, we have been talking about how it’s unnatural for our zanpaktou to be away from us,” he said thoughtfully. “I think that it will be hypocritical for us to keep Muramasa away from his Shinigami master.”

He smiled widely. “I’ll see if I can convince Yama-jii to open the seal just long enough to make sure that the two of them are sealed together properly. Starrk-san here will have to convince Muramasa to withdraw his control over our zanpaktou and to go along with this plan.”

The smile Starrk gave him was bright and hopeful, and Shunsui dug his toes into the ground to stop himself from lunging towards him like some kind of wild animal. He smiled at him instead.

Lilynette had been watching the byplay between the two of them with a narrow, suspicious look. “You have no standards whatsoever, Starrk,” she declared, shaking her head and crossing her arms on her chest. Shunsui had a distinct feeling that she wasn’t just talking about Muramasa. “But fine. If you can’t convince him by talking, I’ll kick him in the head a few times. That might work.”

Ukitake snorted. “I hope that we won’t have to resort to such violence, Lilynette-chan.”

That was probably as much verbal agreement that Shunsui would get from Ukitake right now, so he took advantage of him. “Well, now that we have figured out what we’re going to do, let’s go find Yama-jii.” 

He turned to look at Yoruichi. “Will you lead the way?”

“I will, once I figure out something else,” Yoruichi said, sounding distracted as her eyes scanned their surroundings.

“Where’s Ichigo?”

All of them started, looking around and at each other.

“Why are you looking for him?” Ukitake asked.

“It’s all very well and good that we’re planning to talk to Muramasa, but I know Ichigo – he sees a problem, and his immediate reaction is to cut it down,” Yoruichi said crisply. “And Ichigo is likely the only person who is capable of breaking a barrier Yamamoto-soutaichou has set up.”

Shunsui’s eyes widened. He understood her worry immediately. Currently, their trump card to make Muramasa listen to them was the location of the seal and the way to unlock it, but if Muramasa had managed to manipulate Ichigo into breaking Yama-jii’s barrier, then all this talking had been completely useless. 

“I haven’t seen him since my battle with Sode no Shirayuki,” Rukia-chan volunteered, sounding troubled.

“We better look for him first,” Yoruichi said briskly. 

“Lilynette-chan?” Ukitake turned towards the girl. “Can you locate him?”

Before Lilynette could reply, a sudden wave of extremely familiar reiatsu washed over them. The air trembled and screamed, and the temperature rose several degrees immediately.

Ryuujin Jyakka had been released.

“Uh,” Lilynette said, her voice filled with dry irony. She pointed towards the direction of the wave. 

“I think he’s over there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… did I make you ship Zaraki/Grimmjow/Neliel and Lilynette/Rukia?
> 
> There might be porn for both in the future… I think. I’m not sure yet. I don’t even know how my Starrk-centric fic turned out to have such an ensemble cast.
> 
> Also, the changes I made to the plot of the zanpaktou arc comes from my sheer annoyance at the fact that Shunsui and Ukitake didn’t know what is going on during that arc, and they had to wait until Yamamoto got out of the barrier to get information. That just doesn’t make any sense, given how intelligent they are shown to be in canon and that they were probably _there_ when Kouga started doing his rubbish. It’s like they’ve been handed an Idiot Ball just so that things can lead to Ichigo having the confrontation with Muramasa and to keep everyone in the dark about the reasons behind Byakuya’s betrayal.
> 
> It’s less dramatic this way, but don’t worry, I will earn the ‘drama’ genre of this fic next chapter.


	15. No Good Deed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> … goes unpunished. (In other news, Lilynette makes a hell of an impression on Byakuya.)

“Change of plans,” Shunsui said immediately. “We’ll head straight to the location of the seal and try to make Muramasa listen to us before he succeeds in breaking Kouga free. If Muramasa is already in the midst of opening the seal, then we will have to stop him.”

Ukitake nodded. “I’ll find Hitsugaya-taichou and head towards Genryuusai-sensei. Hyourinmaru should be able to douse Ryuujin Jyakka’s flames at least temporarily; that will give me enough time to find out from Ichigo what happened between him and Muramasa. I’ll head to the Living World to find you with the rest once we have that settled.”

“I’ll come with you,” the dark-skinned woman whose name Starrk still didn’t know said. “I need to kick Ichigo in the head. I thought I taught him to think before he acted.”

Shunsui turned towards him. “That leaves you and Lilynette-chan with me, Starrk-san,” he said, smiling slightly.

Starrk wondered, wryly, if it was something in the makeup of Shinigami that allowed them to deal with sudden changes so quickly. Here he was, still trying to recover from the sheer heat of the reiatsu that was still shuddering through the air, barely capable of thinking straight, and they were already modifying their strategy. It was almost enough to make his head hurt.

No wonder he had lost to Shunsui during that battle so very long ago.

“Alright,” he said, because there was really nothing else to say.

“Will you let me follow you, Kyouraku-taichou?” the small, dimunitive Shinigami that Lilynette had been calling ‘Rukia’ asked. “I believe that Nii-sama will be there as well, and I wish to speak to him.”

Shunsui glanced towards her before he nodded. “Of course, Rukia-chan,” he said. “Ukitake, Yoruichi,” oh, so _that_ was the dark-skinned woman’s name. Starrk told himself to remember it this time. “The seal is located right in the centre of the island in the middle of Karakura Lake. I’m sure you can find it.”

“If I can’t, then I’ll just head for the direction of Starrk-san’s reiatsu,” Ukitake said, his tone teasing and amused. Starrk ducked his head, trying to not blush – he wasn’t very good at suppressing his reiatsu yet. He had been depending on his wrist restraints to do that for him. “Don’t worry so much, Kyouraku. Get going already.”

“Ah, I’ve been scolded,” Shunsui said, looking so mournful that Starrk couldn’t help but smile. The Captain looked at him for a moment before he grinned as well. “Let’s go, then.”

He waved a hand, creating a senkaimon, stepping inside once the wood-and-paper doors opened. Starrk looked around him, taking in the sight – it was the first time he had ever been inside one, and he couldn’t help but marvel at how different it felt from a Garganta: so much gentler, opening an already-created passageway instead of ripping through dimensions.

Shaking his head free of the thoughts, he followed Shunsui through the darkness. He fell back a little to run next to Lilynette, reaching out. Their hands met between their bodies, and she squeezed his fingers hard. 

“You’re okay, right, Starrk?” she asked, worry practically making her red eye glow in the darkness. 

Starrk knew what she was really asking: Lilynette might look like a child, but he knew better than anyone that she wasn’t one. She wasn’t only asking about the physical aftermath of the battles they had fought against their wolves, but everything else as well, including the changes in dynamic between him and Shunsui.

Squeezing her hand, he nodded. “I’m fine,” he said quietly. “What about you?”

He had noticed the change of address between her and Rukia, after all; and not to mention the many, many times Lilynette seemed to prioritise the young woman’s safety beyond everyone else’s. And he couldn’t help but worry, because, for the first time, he genuinely did not know what Lilynette’s actions _meant_.

“I’m not sure yet,” she replied quietly. Even through the darkness, he could see her shrug. “But you shouldn’t worry so much. I’ll be fine.”

Dropping his hand onto her head, he ruffled her hair a little. It was still a bit of a surprise to feel hair instead of bone beneath his hand, but this wasn’t the time for him to dwell on that. “I’ll take your word on it.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“When I spoke to him,” he answered the question Lilynette had not voiced. “He told me that he’s doing all this because of a duty he must fulfil, but… I think he was lying, because there was such a familiar disease in his eyes.”

Lilynette’s hand squeezed his tightly. She understood; she probably understood better than anyone else could in all three worlds.

“Can it be cured?” she asked.

Starrk took a deep breath, aware of her red gaze on him. “I think his cure is much easier than ours to find,” he told her in the same quiet voice. “He is suffering so much because there is one person he greatly misses. If we reunite him with his master, then he wouldn’t be in pain anymore.”

“Mm,” Lilynette said. “Okay.”

So she _would_ help, after all. Starrk didn’t think she wouldn’t, but it was… good, to have confirmation.

“Lilynette?” Rukia suddenly spoke up. When the two Arrancar turned towards her, she jerked her head towards the front. “I think we will have to hurry, or Kyouraku-taichou will leave us behind.”

Surely she had been listening in to their conversation – in fact, it would have been impossible for not to, given how close they were – but Starrk wasn’t sure how much she had understood from all that they had said. Ukitake had said once or twice that he and Lilynette seemed to have their own language that no one else could decode.

“Let’s hurry up then!” Lilynette chirped, and her grin was wide enough to be seen. She tugged on Starrk’s hand, starting to run faster, and Starrk noticed that her other hand was wrapped around Rukia’s wrist. He ducked his head, swallowed the comment he wanted to make, and obeyed.

When they burst out of the passageway into the light, Starrk raised a hand to shield his eyes. They were standing in front of a large body of water – a lake not much different from the ones in Seireitei – and in the middle was a small island primarily dominated by a huge tree. It was easy enough to figure out that this was the location of the seal, especially since Muramasa was standing right in front of it.

An explosion went off to their side, and Starrk suddenly felt a sensation of complete _wrongness_. Instinctively, he grabbed Lilynette and Rukia and shoved them behind him, raising his hand and throwing up his reiatsu as a shield. He was barely in time: a hail of blue arrows rained down on them, and Starrk winced when he felt just how wrong and strange it was. 

“Kuchiki-san!” Now _that_ was a voice Starrk had been hoping to never, ever hear again. Stifling a flinch, he lowered the blue shield just as Inoue Orihime rushed towards them. She spotted him and Lilynette, her eyes widening, but she shook her head and turned towards her friend.

“I’m so glad to see that you’re alright!” Inoue said, her hands clasping around Rukia’s shoulders. Lilynette’s entire body twitched, and Starrk tightened his grip around his other half’s shoulder. “Where is Kurosaki-kun?”

“Ichigo is back in Soul Society,” Rukia told her. “What has been going on here, Inoue?”

“I… I’m not sure,” she said, biting her lip. “That man…” she darted a glance towards Muramasa. “He came here and he started attacking us.”

“What are two Arrancar doing here?” a harsh voice interrupted her. Starrk shoved his hands into his pockets, turning to look at the source of the sheer wrongness in the air. 

“Now, now, Ishida-kun,” Shunsui spoke up. His attention was only half on the dark-haired boy in the white clothes, because he was watching what Muramasa was doing. It was clearly far too late to stop Muramasa from opening the seal, so they would just have to wait until it was open before making a move.

“Starrk-san and Lilynette-chan are here as our allies.”

Ishida – _what_ was he, and why did his reiatsu make Starrk’s very skin creep? – narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. “Inoue-san,” his hand, holding a web-like bow, twitched. “Will you get away from the two Arrancar?”

Inoue ignored him. 

“Kuchiki-san…” she said, and then looked towards Shunsui. “Kyouraku-san. I’m not sure what is going on, but that man… he attacked us, but… his reiatsu feels like… and his eyes, they…” she fell silent, shaking her head hard.

“His reiatsu feels like mine,” Starrk said, a little wryly. “Doesn’t it?”

“Y- yes,” she nodded. “But…”

Shunsui stepped forward, tipping back his hat to look her in the eye. “You don’t have to tell us not to hurt him, Orihime-chan,” the Captain said gently. He gave her a small smile when she looked at him. “You see, Starrk-san here has already told us about Muramasa’s suffering. We were hoping to reach here in time to talk to him before he broke open the seal, actually.”

The boy with the strange reiatsu was joined by someone else, someone who felt like a human but was not at the same time. Both of them gave him a wide-eyed look. “The _Arrancar_ said that?” Ishida asked, sounding incredulous. “When did Hollows know what it means to feel?”

“Ishida-kun,” Inoue said even as Shunsui was stepping forward with thinned lips. “I don’t think Starrk-san is a bad person.” Her eyes turned towards Lilynette, and she smiled tremulously. “And I don’t think Lilynette-san is a bad person as well.”

“But—” Ishida started.

“The seal is opening, so I suggest that we all hurry over to the island,” Shunsui interrupted him, and despite the lightness of his tone, there was a hard look in his eyes as he looked at all of them. “We can have the argument about the nature of Hollows later, Ishida-kun.”

Before Ishida could say anything else, Shunsui turned to Starrk. “Let’s go, Starrk-san,” he said, eyes softening slightly.

Starrk’s breath hitched. He tried to ignore it.

They reached the island just in time to feel the wave of reiatsu from the unsealed Shinigami as he awoke. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched as the others prepare themselves for battle. Rukia seemed distracted, looking around her. But he focused on Muramasa, waiting for an opening for when he could approach the sword and his Shinigami master.

“Mura… masa…” the Shinigami – _Kouga_ , he reminded himself – said. Starrk’s eyes widened when he saw that look in his eyes. It was so very, very familiar. The last time he had seen it, he was lying flat on his back, staring at the skies and hoping for… hoping for something that he knew now would have been the ruin of all that he had come to care for.

His body was moving even before he knew it, rushing forward. He gripped hold of Kouga’s sword before it could sink into Muramasa’s body, feeling the blade tear through fur and skin. Starrk gritted his teeth, tightening his grip, and he shoved _hard_ at Kouga, pushing him away from Muramasa.

“You… Don’t interfere!” Muramasa yelled. Starrk didn’t look at him, simply raising his hand to show him the blood dripping from the deep cut on his palm.

“He was going to try to kill you,” he said softly.

“No, Kouga wouldn’t…” Muramasa said, his voice strident. “Kouga will never attack me!”

Kouga was looking at Starrk with narrowed eyes. “I don’t know who you are,” he said. “But get the hell out of my way. I need to get rid of this worthless sword of mine.”

Behind him, Starrk could feel Muramasa’s reiatsu waver at those words. “Kouga…?” he whispered tentatively. 

Those narrowed green eyes turned from Starrk to his zanpaktou. “You didn’t come for me when I called for you,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You refused to lend me your power when I was about to be sealed.”

“You… called for me?” Muramasa murmured, sounding shocked and lost. “I didn’t hear you, I swear it. I’ve… I’ve always wanted to help you with all of my body and soul, no matter the situation.”

Starrk was practically invisible in this confrontation between zanpaktou and Shinigami, but he refused to budge – he wasn’t going to let Kouga attack Muramasa again, and he knew that he was going to. 

The look in Kouga’s eyes was exactly the same as Aizen’s right before he threw Starrk away like he was trash.

“What’s the point if you are not there when I needed you?” Kouga shouted, swiping his sword around. He glared at Muramasa, raising it until the broken tip was pointing straight at his throat. “I am your Shinigami. I am the one who created your powers! 

Muramasa choked. “Aren’t we comrades?” he asked, with a desperate sort of despair in his voice.

Lilynette gasped. The space where Starrk’s heart should be burned. His arm ached from a wound long-healed; the wound dealt to him by Kyouka Suigetsu.

“Comrades?” Kouga sneered. “You are just a sword. You are just a tool.”

The Shinigami raised the broken blade. The pain from Kouga’s words, the fact that Starrk had to watch someone else be dealt a devastating blow of betrayal while not being able to do anything about it, slowed him down. He was too slow to stop Kouga from breaking the blade into half.

Muramasa screamed. The air itself started to break apart from the force of his despair and suffering, permeated with the scent of Hollows. He heard Lilynette’s yell of rage, but Starrk wasn’t looking at her anymore.

He breathed through his teeth, created a shield around himself using his own reiatsu, and leapt at Muramasa. When he felt that cloth underneath his hand, he pulled, and held on tight as Muramasa screamed and screamed and _screamed_.

***

Rukia stared at the scene in front of her, eyes wide with horror.

She could understand only some of it: Muramasa had tried his very hardest to free his master, and now his master was clearly a complete _bastard_ who couldn’t appreciate that effort. She couldn’t even imagine harming Sode no Shirayuki – the battle against her had been the hardest she had ever fought in her life – much less… much less to consider her beautiful sword a _tool_ to be discarded.

What kind of monster was Kuchiki Kouga? 

“Rukia,” Lilynette said, breaking her out of her thoughts. Rukia started, turning to look at the girl. She stumbled backwards involuntarily at the sheer rage she saw screaming from that one red eye. “Step back. I’m going to kill that man.”

She snarled – sounding more like an animal than a human – before she drew her sword. “I fucking despise bastards who betray those who trust them.”

Suddenly, Rukia understood the anger. Lilynette hadn’t said much, but she could guess.

They had trusted Aizen, the two of them; placed their first trust, fragile as glass, into his hands. They had faith in him, so much that they would fight for his ambitions and die to protect him, and yet he took what they had given to him so willingly and tossed it to the ground. He had ground all they had given him beneath his feet until it all shattered.

It wasn’t Kouga that Lilynette was looking at. It was Aizen.

Nodding, Rukia took a step back. 

“Kick about, Los Lobos,” Lilynette said, her voice soft and low. Rukia shielded her eyes from the sudden burst of blinding blue light.

When the light faded, she found herself gaping. A small part of herself was suddenly resentful that she was, _again_ , the shortest person she knew, because Lilynette hadsomehow grown taller during her release. But most of her was marvelling at the sheer power that was emanating from the girl – if she was as powerful as one of the weaker Captains previously, she could probably give Ukitake-taichou a run for his money in raw strength alone.

Lilynette raised a hand, pointing it straight at Kouga. “Ce—” she started.

But then Senbonzakura was in front of them, his sword right over Lilynette’s throat. “It is my master’s duty to kill Kuchiki Kouga, Arrancar,” the zanpaktou intoned. His lips, visible through the broken mask, were pressed into a thin line. “Do not interfere.”

Rukia opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Lilynette was grabbing onto the sword with one still-furred, still-clawed hand and pushing it away from her neck. Blood welled up, sliding down her wrist. The grey fur turned dark.

“He has no right,” she said flatly.

“What?” Senbonzakura asked, sounding clearly shocked.

“A traitor has no right to kill another traitor,” Lilynette said, and Rukia nearly shivered at her tone of voice: had Lilynette always the capability to sound _this_ menacing?

“My master was only pretending to betray Soul Society so that he can find out the location of the seal,” Senbonzakura said, his echoing voice patronising. “It is his duty to protect the honour of the Kuchiki clan; the honour which Kouga has besmirched.”

“Then he is an idiot as well as a traitor,” Lilynette scoffed. Her smile was the most unpleasant expression Rukia had ever seen on her face. Distantly, she felt as if she had to defend her brother, but her hands were empty even as she grasped at words.

Was this creature the same girl who had played with Yachiru, and dragged Rukia into it by slinging snowballs at her?

“I have no time for you,” Lilynette said.

In that instant, she was gone. Senbonzakura looked shocked, but Rukia was no longer paying attention to him. She watched, blinking, as Lilynette flashed into being right next to Kouga. She had felt her brother fighting against the bastard of a Shinigami, and now Lilynette was joining the fray. 

Despite herself, Rukia moved into _shunpo_ , getting closer to the three-way battle even as she made sure to stay out of range.

“Get out of the way,” Byakuya was saying. “This is a fight for the honour of the Kuchiki clan. An Arrancar has no place in it.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Lilynette replied. She was speaking through gritted teeth as she held back Kouga’s weapon with the same hand she used to stop Senbonzakura’s blade. “I’m a fucking dumb Arrancar who didn’t know how to read until the last few months, but I had this sense that honour has a lot to do with not betraying those who care about you.”

“What are you talking about?” Byakuya asked. He sounded irritated and confused. Rukia knew that it was only because she knew her brother well that she could identify the latter.

“Honour has something to do with promises, right?” she asked, darting backwards as Kouga slashed towards her. She sent off a Cero, not even looking at him. Her gaze was entirely on Byakuya. “So I don’t see what right someone who has broken all the promises he made, even though he’s only pretending, has to talk about _honour._ ”

For the first time in her life, Rukia saw Byakuya stumble, his eyes widening.

Lilynette turned away from him, her eyes – _both,_ Rukia finally noticed, because her mask fragment had changed – fixed upon Kouga. “Me, I know plenty about what it feels like to be betrayed,” she said, her voice soft and quiet. “I know how much it hurts.”

Suddenly, she bared her teeth, the expression a mockery of a grin. “Both of you remind me a lot of Aizen right now.”

The sound that Byakuya made was the most distraught Rukia had ever heard from her brother. H stared at Lilynette for a moment before his gaze snapped towards Rukia herself. His eyes were wide and horrified, and Rukia knew, then, that he hadn’t _thought_ of the consequences his actions could have on her… on Renji. Like before, he had simply been consumed by his duty to the clan.

She swallowed hard. She wished, suddenly, that Renji was here. Renji had always been better at finding words to say.

“Fuck off, Byakuya,” Lilynette said, sounding conversational even as she threw another Cero in Kouga’s direction. “Leave this bastard to me. Go repair the damned _honour_ that you’ve ruined yourself.”

“Who the hell are you?” Kouga roared suddenly. “ _What_ the hell are you?”

“I’m a fucking dumb Arrancar who can’t stand traitors,” Lilynette answered, her grin widening into a snarl.

Rukia tore her eyes away from the battle, focusing instead on her brother, who was looking at her with eyes that would look calm and impassive to anyone else. Slowly, she tried a small smile.

“Have I…” Byakuya started, sounding a little lost. “Have I betrayed you, Rukia?”

She took a deep breath, staring down at her hands. “Nii-sama, I…” she swallowed hard before looking into her brother’s eyes.

“I understand how important your duty to the Kuchiki family is to you,” she said, haltingly. “So I… I forgive you.”

Byakuya made to speak, but she shook her head hard, forestalling him.

“Nii-sama… I understand that I am too weak to help you with your burdens. I understand that there is much that I still must learn before I can help ease the weight resting on your shoulders,” she said hurriedly. Somewhere behind her, something exploded, and Kouga was screaming. Rukia ignored it. “But after the war, though you have not made a promise, I thought… I thought that you would at least allow me to _try_.

“We were worried, Renji and I, when we thought you had gone missing. When you reappeared and seemed to have turned to the side of the enemy, we were… we were hurt, because we didn’t understand.” Mentally, she hoped that Renji could forgive her for speaking on his behalf. It was so much easier when she wasn’t just talking about herself. 

This was the most honest she had ever been with her brother. Somehow, it was ironic and fitting at the same time that it happened in the middle of a battlefield.

Byakuya was silent for long moments. Then he reached out, his long-fingered hands resting on her shoulders. “I… I did not think that you would…” he started, sounding a little dazed. “Rukia, I…”

Apologies, Rukia knew, did not come easily to her brother. She wanted, right now, to tell him that it wasn’t necessary. But… but it was. She hadn’t said it, didn’t want to say it, but it _galled_ to think that she placed her trust so wholly in Byakuya and it was not returned. That her brother still thought, despite everything, that he could solve everything by himself; that his burdens were only his own to carry.

Had he forgotten that Rukia was a Kuchiki too?

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” Byakuya said finally, sounding as if the words hurt him to say.

At that moment, her heart ached, feeling as if it could burst at the same time. She remembered the last time her brother had apologised to her, when he was lying half-dead after shielding her from Ichimaru’s blade. At that time, she couldn’t do this for fear of aggravating his injuries.

He wasn’t injured now, so… Rukia stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around her brother’s body, hugging him tight.

She felt the hitch in Byakuya’s breath; felt the way his entire body froze. She didn’t move, waiting patiently until his arms finally came around to wrap around hers.

“I will get stronger,” she said, her voice half-muffled by his clothes. “I will get stronger so I can stand beside you and share in your burdens.”

Tipping her head back, she caught his gaze with her own.

“Will you help me?”

“Rukia, you…” he started. Then he let out a breath, a huff that brushed over her hair, before he nodded.

“Yes.”

It was a promise, she thought. And Kuchiki Byakuya, Rukia knew, did not make promises easily.

Slowly, she smiled.

“DIE, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” Lilynette’s shout was suddenly ripped through them. Rukia jerked, twisting a little out of her brother’s embrace to watch as the Arrancar literally shove a Cero right down Kouga’s throat. Kouga, who was being restrained by Kyouraku-taichou… where did he come from?

The body exploded, blood and guts spraying everywhere. If Lilynette wasn’t covered in it before, she certainly was now. Kyouraku-taichou was, unfortunately, caught in the blast radius as well. Rukia saw him make a face.

“That girl has no finesse whatsoever in the way she fights,” Byakuya said, voice dry.

Rukia’s shoulders shook a little from laughter. Her brother’s sense of humour was so _strange_. “She learned primarily from Zaraki-taichou and Kusajishi-fukutaichou,” she said.

“Hn,” Byakuya said. “She needs better teachers.”

Was that… Rukia’s eyes widened. Was her brother _offering_? She was incredibly tempted to ask, but, no, she really shouldn’t push her luck so much for one day. 

Instead, she watched as Kyouraku-taichou literally dragged Lilynette deep into the depth of the whirling black miasma that she supposed was Muramasa. They disappeared inside, their reiatsu swallowed up so entirely by the whirling mass that she couldn’t feel anything.

Blinking, she looked up to her brother. 

“Yes, Rukia,” Byakuya said in the same dry tone as before. “I fully comprehend the frustration of not knowing what is going on.”

***

There was a saying, or a quote, about something that was rotten in some country. Shunsui wasn’t sure why he was thinking about it right now, but he brushed through his memory, trying to figure it out, as he swam through the black reiatsu. Surely it was the perfect way of describing this situation.

He was blind in more ways than one. Not only could he not see anything here, but he couldn’t even sense Starrk’s reiatsu through the thick fog that was Muramasa’s. Well, at least he told Ukitake about the location of the seal, so there _was_ some chance of a cavalry. He was starting to think that they would need it. 

His hand touched something. Suddenly, his vision _jerked_ and cleared… somewhat. Instead of black and red surrounding him, the world was coloured in a very familiar shade of blue. 

That mattered less than the fact that he could see Starrk in front of him. The Arrancar was on his knees, one arm wrapped around Muramasa’s prone figure, the other reaching out for Shunsui. Shunsui took the hand, closing his fingers around it. He had a feeling that the physical contact was the reason why Starrk’s reiatsu was enveloping him like this.

“Shunsui,” Starrk gave him a wan smile. “I was hoping that you would come.”

The implied trust there gave Shunsui a shot of warmth down his spine. He smiled crookedly at Starrk, fingers tightening. “Nothing can keep me away,” he said lightly. He jerked his head towards Muramasa, noticing for the first time the glazed look in the sword’s eyes. Remembering the way that Kouga had broken the sword that _was_ Muramasa, Shunsui found himself hating that weak-hearted Shinigami even more.

“He can’t hear us,” Starrk shook his head. “I’ve been trying to talk to him, but I don’t think he heard anything I’ve said.” He bit his lip. “Shunsui, his situation is bad, but… I think I can still help him.”

“What can I do?” Shunsui asked immediately. 

To be frank, he didn’t much care if Muramasa could be helped – it would be kinder if the sword was killed right now, because he didn’t think Kouga would last for long under Byakuya’s blade – but he would do anything to make sure that the tentative hope in Starrk’s eyes didn’t die.

Helping a zanpaktou that had been so badly used by its master didn’t seem to be a method that would bite him back later.

“Why…” Shunsui started at the sound of Muramasa’s voice. “Why are you trying to help me, Coyote Starrk?”

“I told you before: I don’t like seeing people hurt,” Starrk told the sword quietly. “As for other reasons… it would take far too long to explain. We can do that later.”

Muramasa’s eyes focused for a moment on Starrk before he gasped, seizing up. Starrk held him even tighter, his grey-blue eyes meeting Shunsui’s over the sword’s shoulder.

“He has been consuming Hollows to survive,” Starrk told him in a low voice. “Now that he is so broken, his control over the Hollows is weakening. I’m not sure what would happen if he loses even more.”

“Tell me what I can do to help,” Shunsui said.

“I need Lilynette,” Starrk told him. “Her _pesquisa_ …”

Shunsui lifted that hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss onto the back. “You don’t have to elaborate,” he said, smiling. “I understand. I’ll get her.”

Starrk was staring at him, most likely because of the kiss. This close, Shunsui could hear the way his breath was hitching, and he gave Starrk another smile before he let go, stepping back into the black miasma. Instinctively, he turned, letting his body retrace the steps he took just now. The reiatsu probably didn’t change the physical landscape, so it should be easy enough to come back here if he remembered the direction he took.

When he stepped out of the black miasma, he immediately had to dodge a Cero. Well, _finding_ Lilynette wasn’t a problem, but _getting_ her might be, since she was fighting Kouga and all. Shunsui blinked, noticing that Byakuya and Rukia-chan were speaking off to a corner, bordering the edges of the battle. Why on Earth was Lilynette fighting Kouga while Byakuya, who seemed to have betrayed Seireitei for the sole purpose of killing the man, was standing to the side?

Why was it that every single time he took his eyes off Starrk or Lilynette, they managed to enact some sort of change?

His head was spinning; he shook it hard. There was no use wondering now. Narrowing his eyes, he focused on the battle… _there_ , just as Kouga was readying some sort of kido move. Shunsui stepped into _shunpo_ , appearing right behind the man, grabbing both of his arms and restraining him by the sheer weight of his reiatsu.

“Kyouraku…” Kouga growled.

Shunsui ignored him. “Now, Lilynette! We don’t have time.”

Lilynette blinked at him. Shunsui was very glad that, no matter how much time she spent at the Eleventh, she didn’t seem to have any qualms with someone else interfering in her fight to help her win it. She charged, yelling a war cry that Shunsui mentally censored, and shoved a Cero right down Kouga’s throat.

Shunsui let out a blast of reiatsu to make sure that the blood and guts didn’t land on his pink kimono. It was really troublesome for him to get _that_ dry-cleaned.

“What does Starrk need me to do?” Lilynette asked, wiping her face with a sleeve. 

“How do you know he needs you to do something?” 

“You came out from that stinky black thing,” she pointed with a claw, rolling her eyes. “I know Starrk’s in there with Muramasa. I know that Starrk has a hell of a bleeding heart. I know you went in there to get him. There’s no other reason for you to be out here without Starrk unless he wants me to do something.”

Shunsui smirked, letting the darkness of Muramasa’s reiatsu hide the expression as they stepped into the whirling black. He grabbed onto Lilynette’s wrist as he moved in the same direction as he had just now.

“Are you learning to analyse people the same way Starrk-san does, Lilynette-chan?” he asked.

“Kind of,” Lilynette said, and her voice sounded oddly distorted in this place. “I’m not nearly as good as he is at it, though. Because he’s a bleeding heart and I’m not.”

Well, given how easily and heartlessly she had dispatched Kouga, Shunsui supposed that was true. Starrk would have hesitated a great deal – not merely because he disliked killing, but simply because he didn’t want Muramasa to suffer the loss of his master. Shunsui wondered if the differences in their power levels were a deliberate choice of the universe, given their personalities.

“So what is it that Starrk wants me to do?” Lilynette asked impatiently. 

“Muramasa absorbed Hollows to survive his separation from Kouga,” Shunsui told her, summarising the situation. “Starrk-san needs you to look for the reiatsu threads tying Muramasa to those Hollows he absorbed so you can free him from them.”

“Hah,” Lilynette said, sounding thoughtful. “I can probably do that, but I might just end up killing him.” 

“I’m sure Starrk-san has a plan to prevent that,” Shunsui said, even though he couldn’t think of any himself. Kouga was dead; what zanpaktou could survive his master’s death?

He felt Starrk’s hand again and gripped onto it, squeezing his eyes shut as black and red shifted to blue.

The first thing he noticed was that Muramasa’s eyes were focused now. The sword was staring at Starrk with slightly parted lips, and there was something _odd_ in his gaze, something that seemed like longing… but before Shunsui could put his finger on what it was exactly, it was gone. 

Eyeing Muramasa suspiciously, he pulled Lilynette’s hand forward until it was pressed against the bare skin of Starrk’s neck. The moment they touched, the girl flickered into view.

“Ow, my eyes,” she grumbled. Looking at Muramasa for a moment, she sighed, dragging a hand through her hair as she met his gaze. 

“You don’t deserve the shit that he told you, you know,” she told him, matter-of-fact. “He’s a hell of a bastard for treating you like that after you did so much for him.” She paused. “Though seriously, couldn’t you think of another way to do things other than to free the annoying bastards in our swords? They are _so_ annoying.”

Muramasa blinked.

“This is Lilynette,” Starrk introduced belatedly. His lips were twitching. “She is the other half of my soul.”

“I’m the nastier half,” she said, smiling crookedly. Then she reached out, placing one small hand over Muramasa’s neck. Her eyes lidded, and after a moment, she jerked away with a small ‘eep’.

“How many Hollows have you eaten?” she asked, eyes wide. “There are _hundreds_ of Menos Grande in here.”

“I have been waiting for Kouga for hundreds of years,” Muramasa said dully. 

“Shunsui,” Starrk turned to him. “If Lilynette frees Muramasa from the Hollows, will you be able to deal with hundreds of Menos Grande? They will be a threat to the town.”

Narrowing his eyes, Shunsui considered the question. Byakuya obviously had control of his zanpaktou, and Senbonzakura was useful against a large number of enemies. He didn’t have his own sword back – honestly, he had no idea what happened to Katen Kyokotsu – but he was a fair hand at kido and he could be quick enough to deal with a hoard if he had to. In a pinch, there was Starrk and Lilynette’s powers as well, though he was loathed to ask them to kill the Hollows – they couldn’t purify them like the Shinigami could, and he doubted that Starrk _or_ Lilynette would want to become even more powerful.

He shrugged. “I believe we’ll be able to manage,” he said. “Besides, Ukitake promised to bring help soon.”

“Do you truly mean it?” Muramasa said suddenly, his eyes fixed upon Starrk. “When you told me that you would lend me your power… did you _truly_ mean it?”

Starrk jerked back at the voice, obviously startled. His eyes met Muramasa’s for a moment before he relaxed, smiling softly as heis arm tightened around the sword’s shoulder. “If my power can aid you in whatever way, then I will.”

The sword’s eyes slid towards Lilynette. “Would you lend me your power as well?” he asked.

“Starrk’s power is my power,” she said, shrugging. “If he agrees, so do I.”

After a moment of silence – Muramasa was clearly waiting for more – she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

“I don’t like seeing people hurt if I can help it, alright?” she groused, looking clearly irritated. “I ended up being pissed off enough to fight for your sake just now. Doesn’t that tell you _something_?”

Slowly, Muramasa nodded.

Shunsui was sure, at this point, that the sword was planning something. He narrowed his eyes, letting his hands drop to his sides, close to the two blades still strapped at his hip. If he was ungrateful enough to try to harm the two Arrancar in front of him after all the efforts that they were making to help him, then Shunsui _would_ kill him.

He hoped he didn’t have to.

“Alright,” he said. “Free them. Free _me_.”

Lilynette nodded. She reached out, and placed her hand over Muramasa’s neck again.

For long moments, absolutely nothing happened. Then, slowly, very slowly, Shunsui began to be able to feel Starrk’s reiatsu, then Lilynette’s. Starrk let go of him, and he blinked when the blue faded away. He was still surrounded by black and red, but the miasma was slowly dissipating… no, _dispersing_ and _reforming_. Each spot of black shot upwards, changing, shifting, the tips turning white and into familiar masks with sharp, pointed noises.

The groans of the Menos reverberated in his ears. The creatures towered over them, taller than even the skyscrapers of the Living World. Slowly, Shunsui could see, out of the corner of his eyes, the figures of Byakuya and Senbonzakura as they prepared to fight. Even Rukia-chan was getting into the fray, her hands glowing with the piercingly sharp light of kido. 

Soon, the black and red reiatsu was entirely gone, and he could see the skies in its entirety – it was filled with purple clouds, heavy and looming, curled into a spiral. Darkness fell over them, the shadows of the crowding Menos killing any ray of sunlight that could penetrate. 

Lilynette rocked back on her heels, and Starrk steadied her as they both stood. Shunsui knew he should leave, to start fighting the Menos Grande himself, but his instincts were screaming at him to stay right here.

This wasn’t over yet.

“You’re free,” Lilynette said, rising to her feet. Her grin looked tired. “You can do whatever it is you want now.”

“There’s no need to thank us,” Starrk said, placing both hands on Lilynette’s shoulders as he stood behind her. “All we want is for you to find your own happiness.”

“Yes,” Muramasa whispered, nodding as if to himself. “Yes… I can see it… The path to my happinesss…”

He stumbled forward. Light was coalescing in his hand, and Shunsui grabbed for his own swords. But Muramasa was fast, incredibly fast. There was suddenly a sword in his hand, and he drove it, blade-first, right into Lilynette’s chest.

Lilynette made a sound, almost like a gasp, and Muramasa _shoved_ the sword even further. Her body slammed backwards, back meeting Starrk’s chest, and the blade sank through her body, through Starrk’s, and exited through his back.

Shunsui’s sword went through his entire body: Muramasa had turned himself immaterial.

“Yes,” Muramasa said, his eyes fixed upon the two Arrancar who were staring at the blades connecting their bodies. “This is what I want.”

In that moment, he vanished. His blade remained there for only a moment more before disappearing as well. 

Shunsui dropped his sword, lunging forward. He touched them, trying to find blood, trying to find the wounds caused by Muramasa’s attack.

But there was nothing. It was as if the whole thing was Shunsui’s imagination. A memory tugged at him; he dismissed it.

“Starrk-san? Lilynette-chan?” he shook them both hard. They were staring at him… _past_ him, into absolute nothingness. 

Slowly, Starrk’s eyes focused on him. “Shun… sui…” he murmured.

Like a house of cards, he collapsed. Shunsui barely managed to catch him, practically flailing as he stopped Lilynette from smashing her face to the ground with his other arm. Somehow, he managed to lower them both gently to the ground.

He checked them over again, his hands tugging open their clothes. Though the sight of Muramasa’s sword piercing through their bodies were engraved at the back of his eyelids, he could find no wounds, none whatsoever that could explain their current catatonic states.

The memory stirred again, prodding for his attention. It was… when Katen Kyokotsu first told him her name. He had met her, in his inner world, and she had… she had driven both swords into his body, grinning like the demon she was. He had screamed from the shock and pain, but when he woke up from his meditation, there was no wound.

Shunsui’s mind whirled. Muramasa said that he was giving the whole of himself, but Starrk and Lilynette weren’t Shinigami. They were _Arrancar_. Even if it was possible for a Shinigami to take another Shinigami’s sword, could an Arrancar—

There was blood on his fingertips.

There was blood leaking out from the Hollow hole in the middle of Starrk’s chest.

There was blood spreading out from Lilynette’s abdomen, right over the place where her Hollow hole was.

Shunsui heard, as if from a great distance, Rukia-chan scream Lilynette’s name. The Menos Grande roared.

The world was suddenly awashed with red. He tore his eyes away from the two prone, bleeding figures on the ground. Dully, he recognised the red light of at least three different Ceros gathering in the mouths of the Menos Grande, and knew that he was the target. 

Starrk’s body jerked. The sound he made – a choked, bubbling gasp – dug into Shunsui’s ear, worming into his nerves. He would, he realised, never forget it.

Ishida and Sado and Orihime-chan were yelling something. He couldn’t hear their words. Long strands of dark orange waved in front of him, and the red light zipped upwards, Ceros blocked by Orihime-chan’s powerful shield. Shunsui noted that he should feel a little ashamed of letting a young human girl defend him. 

But he felt nothing.

“Kyouraku-san!” Orhime-chan cried. “Please fight! We need your help!”

Slowly, his mind kicked into gear. Karakura town was in danger; it was his duty to protect it from the Menos Grande he had agreed to have released. Byakuya and Rukia-chan and the humans here… all of them needed his help. They were couldn’t fight off so many Menos Grande on their own.

He knew that there was nothing he could do for Starrk and Lilynette now. He failed them the moment he was too slow to stop Muramasa’s sword from piercing their bodies. 

Shunsui picked up his sword. 

Long years had taught him that he should never put sentiment before practicality, especially in times of war. This was no war, but it was a battle; his duty remained the same. But as he forced his body into battle, he knew perfectly well that he was not driven by duty. There was only one thing left in his mind that was forcing his body to move.

If he could do nothing else, he could protect Starrk and Lilynette’s corpses. They deserved more than to be eaten up by Menos Grande; deserved to become more than just food for Hollows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry.


	16. Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things gained and regained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm a day later than my usual updates, and I'm really sorry. My laptop broke down and I had to bring it for repairs. I'm now using a spare.

Jyuushirou ducked.

The red Cero whizzed over his head, its heat crackling the air around him. Without thinking, he leaped into _shunpo_ before he stabbed his unreleased sword straight into the Menos Grande’s mask. It roared, white bone cracking under the weight of metal and reiatsu, before it dissipated into air, the souls it contained finally freed to rejoin the circle of life, death and rebirth.

He landed on the ground, catching his breath for a moment before he took down another Menos Grande. Briefly, he wondered what on Earth was going on and why were there so many of these creatures around here in the Living World, but long years of experience told him that, when stumbling into a battle, questions had to come _after_ fighting.

Just as he took down another Menos, he heard Grimmjow’s laughter. Turning, he watched as the Arrancar – bloodied and bruised and battered from his victory against his own zanpaktou – swipe his sword around him. For some reason Jyuushirou did not understand, the Menos started backing away from him. They stood in a circle around Grimmjow, a huge ball of red starting to gather between them.

Jyuushirou opened his mouth to call out a warning, but Grimmjow was already baring his teeth in some mockery of a smile. Then he threw his head back.

The sound he made was something Jyuushirou did not think he could find any words to describe. It filled the air like a roar, pierced his ears like a shriek, but it was something so much more visceral, so much more animalistic. It was the sound of a million souls screaming with rage all at once, something that was so inhuman that Jyuushirou couldn’t help but shiver from the cold that sank into his skin.

What _was_ that?

His thoughts were interrupted when Grimmjow’s endless scream was cut through by another sound. This one was different; something sweet, something almost _alluring_ … but somehow, it felt dangerous as well. Jyuushirou looked around him, eyes wild and widening when he saw Neliel standing beside a huge Garganta, her lips parted. That long, continuous cry was _hers_ , escaping from those lips, and it was…

Once, Jyuushirou had read one of the myths of the Living World, of monstrous women who waited by rocky shores, singing songs that lured sailors to their deaths. Surely the songs the sailors heard were like this one, something that sent claws deep into Jyuushirou’s body and turned his nerves into puppet strings. He felt himself jerking, trying to not move even as his limbs strained towards Neliel.

A _siren_ , Jyuushirou recalled the name. She was a siren, drawing all of them here towards death.

The Menos Grande, he noted dully, were moving. They were practically scrambling away from Grimmjow, their black robe-like bodies slapping against Jyuushirou’s arms and legs as they practically ran… towards Neliel. Neliel was still making that sound, that _thing_ that was both a song and yet not, as she stepped into the Garganta, near to its mouth. Jyuushirou watched, truly dumbstruck for the first time in long centuries, as she raised a hand and beckoned the Menos towards her. 

The sounds simply stopped. The two Arrancars’ breathing filled the air left behind. Beside Jyuushirou, Ichigo stumbled, nearly falling forward to his face. Jyuushirou grabbed him by his collar, steadying him. Around them, the Menos Grande wavered at the mouth of the Garganta. They moaned, long and low. When Ichigo gave him a startled, uncertain look, Jyuushirou shook his head – he did not know what was going on either.

It was incredibly disconcerting to think that he had been fighting Hollows for more than a thousand years, and yet there was still so much that he did not know about them.

Neliel’s lips parted. She started to cry-sing once more. Grimmjow’s shoulders shook with the force of his inhale, and he began to shriek-scream-roar. The sounds dug straight into Jyuushirou’s stomach, but this time, he didn’t feel the urge to move towards Neliel; didn’t feel that strange, animalistic urge to scramble away from Grimmjow, as if the blue-haired Arrancar was a predator swooping down and he was a tiny, defenceless prey.

They were echoing, those voices. There were only two bodies, two throats, but two sounded like many, like hundreds, like _millions_. Hollows, Jyuushirou recalled distantly, were composed of many, mnay souls once they reached the higher stages of evolution. And, right now, they were _all_ crying-screaming-shrieking-singing.

What for? _What for_?

Most of the Menos were within the Garganta now. Neliel’s body had disappeared deep into the passageway. Her voice continued to ring, echoed, distorted.

Then the Garganta closed. The noises _stopped_. Jyuushirou’s entire body jerked, like a puppet’s strings that had been cut. He looked at the few Menos left floundering before the now-closed passageway, and rushed forward in _shunpo_ to cut them out. To his relief, Hirako and Otoribashi seemed to have recovered their bearings quickly enough to react as well. Between the two of them, they took care of the ten or so Menos remaining.

They landed on the ground just in time to hear Grimmjow’s heavy sigh.

“Fuck,” the Arrancar said. The sound of him popping the bones in his neck cracked the silence into two. He didn’t seem to realise that the eyes of every single Shinigami that were on him as he turned and glared at Ichigo.

“Oy, Kurosaki, couldn’t you have _helped_?”

“Helped?” Ichigo sputtered. “How the hell could I have helped?! What the hell were you doing?!”

Trust the boy to say what was on everyone’s mind, Jyuushirou thought wryly.

Grimmjow blinked. “Fuck,” he said again, shock clear in every inch of his face. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Ichigo spat out, sounding irritable.

“You _really_ don’t know?” Grimmjow asked, and there was a malicious delight creeping into his tone. His eyes scanned the group of Shinigami, landing on particularly on Hirako and Otoribashi. “All of you bastards with Hollows inside you, you have _no idea_ what Neliel and I just did?”

“Why don’t you enlighten us?” Hirako asked, smiling. His hand was stroking over the hilt of his sheathed blade.

Grimmjow laughed. “Shit,” he said, his shoulders shaking. “You all make for piss-poor imitations of Hollows if you can’t do something as basic as _that_.”

Ichigo made a frustrated sound, making to lunge towards the blue-haired Arrancar. Jyuushirou pulled him back by his collar again, pasting a pleasant smile on his face as he stepped forward.

“Forgive us our ignorance, Grimmjow-san,” he said, putting in as much sharp steel in his voice as he could manage. “But will you enlighten us about what you just did?”

All of them had been prepared for a battle when they stepped through the senkaimon. Granted, they thought it would be against Muramasa and Kuchiki Kouga, but a battle was a battle, and if they were to fight against Menos Grande, then so be it. Yet Grimmjow and Neliel had tossed away any need to fight just by making a few _sounds_ that Jyuushirou had never heard from any Hollow before.

The sky shivered, ripping into two as Neliel stepped out. She blinked at the sight in front of her – Grimmjow cackling so hard that he was bent over while the Shinigami stared at him with clear irritation on their faces and their hands drifting towards their swords.

“You want to know what we did,” she said quietly. Stepping out of the Garganta, she met their eyes squarely.

“Neliel,” Ichigo said, looking marginally calmer. “Grimmjow is being a hell of an ass and won’t explain, so… will you?”

“You don’t deserve to know,” Grimmjow cut in before she could answer, still chuckling. “Man, you fuckers have Hollows inside you. If you still don’t know after that, then you really don’t deserve to be told.”

Idly, Neliel reached out and smacked Grimmjow on the back of his head. Ignoring the man’s muffled ‘ow’, she nodded, smiling serenely. “I will tell you,” she said.

Jyuushirou tried to not think about how much she reminded him of Unohana at the moment.

“When Hollows evolve from Menos Grande to Adjuchas stage,” she began. Her voice was soft, but the silence of the clearing was deep enough that it echoed. “We regain speech and intelligence. At the same time, we gain a new…” she hesitated, as if searching for the right words, “ _status_ , as Alpha or Beta.

“Most of the consequences of this change are irrelevant and uninteresting to you,” she said, and there were secrets hiding in the small upward curve of her lips. Jyuushirou thought of Starrk and Lilynette, of the glance they exchanged when they discussed Hollows having children, and began to put the pieces together. “But we also differ in our purposes.”

She cocked her head to the side. “When we form Packs, we are like prides of lions, to put it to a comparison you can understand. The Alphas protects the territory: for this purpose, they have a roar that chases away all weaker Hollows, including Menos Grande. The Betas hunt down other Hollows for food: so, as a Beta, I have a cry that draws them to me.”

“That’s what we did,” Grimmjow finally chimed in, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It really isn’t that hard, you stupid bastards.”

“He means that we learned how to utilise those skills instinctively once we reach Adjuchas,” Neliel translated for him, shrugging. “It’s a little odd that none of you know how to do it, Itsygo.”

“Say,” Grimmjow interrupted before Ichigo could speak – a good thing too, because the boy looked as if he was on the verge of ranting. “I’m starting to think that your Hollows are basic Hollows. The kind Neliel and I eat as a snack. It’ll kind of explain how none of you know shit.”

“Perhaps we just don’t like speaking to our Hollow selves,” Otoribashi said pleasantly. “It’s a little difficult, given that they keep trying to take over our bodies and everything.”

Jyuushirou stopped paying attention to the conversation – he had watched enough pissing contests to not need to add another to his list. Instead, he looked around, senses searching for Kyouraku and Lilynette. It was a little odd that he had seen none of them during the battle or during Grimmjow and Neliel’s display – this _was_ the right place, wasn’t it?

He found both of them at once… and Byakuya and Kuchiki too. Jyuushirou didn’t hesitate, moving into _shunpo_ immediately, stopping once he reached the immediate range of their reiatsu.

The sight that met him took his breath away.

Kyouraku had Starrk cradled in his lap, his kimono draped over the Arrancar. The look on his face was heartwrenchingly familiar enough that Jyuushirou could not look on it for longer than a single second, and he dragged his eyes away from his friend to his burden.

The Arrancar was convulsing, shivering as if he was trapped in a snowstorm. There was blood on the corner of his lips, blood spreading from the centre of his chest, and he was making sharp, aborted gasp every few seconds. His hands continuously clenched and unclenched at his side. Kyouraku’s thumb was wiping away the blood, smearing it all over snow-pale, paper-thin skin. The beloved pink kimono was now stained, utterly ruined.

Beside them, barely an inch away, Kuchiki was holding Lilynette in the same position. Her face was far easier to read: sheer, raw panic. Lilynette had blood pouring down her chin, but here, the source was clearer to see: the girl had bitten her lip entirely through. Her body was jerking in tandem with Starrk, both eyes squeezed tightly shut with tears running down the corners. Blood was spreading outwards from her stomach despite the cloth that Kuchiki’s shaking hands was pressed over the wound.

Their Hollow holes, Jyuushirou realised. Their Hollow holes were bleeding.

Byakuya stood close to them, his eyes darting from the gathering of Shinigami and Arrancar a distance away and the scene in front of him.

“What happened?” Jyuushirou hissed at him. 

Slowly, Byakuya turned. He let out a breath through his teeth.

“I do not know,” he said, the words sounding as if they were forced out of a closed throat. “When Rukia and I arrived at the scene, they were already like this.”

“Ukitake…” a voice said. It took Jyuushirou a heartbeat’s worth of time to recognise the voice – Kyouraku sounded completely unlike himself.

“I don’t know what to do, Ukitake.”

A hundred years ago, Kyouraku had come to Jyuushirou’s office. He had collapsed on his floor without saying a single word,. It had taken Jyuushirou an hour before Kyouraku had told him, in a voice hollow and empty, that the orders came down that Yadomaru-kun would be executed because she had gone through hollowification.

His friend had exactly the same look on his face now.

There was no torment worse for a man of Kyouraku’s position, power, and intelligence than complete and utter helplessness.

Taking a deep breath, Jyuushirou sank down to his knees between Kyouraku and Kuchiki. Aware of Byakuya’s eyes on him, he placed a hand on Kuchiki’s shoulder, and took Kyouraku’s hand in his own, uncaring of the blood that was being smeared over his skin. 

“Kyouraku,” he tried. “Kuchiki.”

Neither of them responded to him. Kyouraku stared at his hand like it was an invading, alien thing. 

Jyuushirou frowned. He reached out, grabbing Kyouraku by the collar of his kosode, and _pulled_ him close. At the same time, he let go of Kuchiki, giving Byakuya a glance to tell him to force his sister to respond if he needed to.

“ _Shunsui_ ,” he said, voice cracking sharply in the air like a whip. Kyouraku blinked, his eyes slowly focusing.

“You need to tell me what happened, Shunsui,” he said in that same tone. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what is going on.”

There was no answer for a long moment before Kyouraku took a long, shuddering breath.

“Muramasa,” Shunsui murmured dully. “He forced himself into them. He invaded their soul.” His breath hissed out through his nose. His eyes slid back to stare at Starrk’s convulsing form.

Jyuushirou blinked. Was that even _possi--_ … no, this was not the time for that.

“I was too slow to stop him.”

_Ah_.

Grabbing Kyouraku’s face with both hands, he shook the man hard until grey-blue eyes turned and focused upon him.

“Stop,” he said. “Get up, Kyouraku. You need to get Starrk-san to the Fourth.”

“The…. Fourth?” the small, halting voice came from behind him. Jyuushirou turned to meet Kuchiki’s wide eyes. “Will… will Unohana-taichou be able to help Lilynette?”

As if she heard the sound of her own name, Lilynette arched up hard, gasping, half-choking on her own blood. Kuchiki stared at her, horror in her eyes, and it was Byakuya who gripped the Arrancar by the shoulder, forcing her to sit up and slamming a fist into her back to stop her from drowning in her own blood.

“What can Retsu-senpai do?” Kyouraku laughed, dark and bitter.

Jyuushirou narrowed his eyes. Slowly, he let go of his friend. This, he decided, required drastic action.

He punched Kyouraku right across the face.

The fist connected with an audible _crack_ , bone against bone, barely muffled by the layers of skin and flesh. Kyouraku’s head snapped backwards. In his lap, Starrk continued to gasp, and bleed.

“You can stay here,” Jyuushirou said, low and calm. “You can stay here and do nothing. Or you can take a chance and bring him to the Fourth.”

Kyouraku stared at him, eyes wide. But his gaze was focused. His hand was crawling upwards to touch at the bruise forming on his cheek.

Distantly, Jyuushirou was aware of two pairs of eyes fixed upon him. He ignored them.

“Unohana-taichou healed Neliel. She has some idea of how to heal an Arrancar. If nothing else, she is the best healer of all three worlds.”

He reached out, taking Kyouraku’s hand before those calloused fingertips could touch skin. Folding those fingers, he rubbed the knuckles gently.

“There is still something you can do, Shunsui.”

Kyouraku drew in a breath. It still sounded hollow and empty, like his lungs had vanished into nothing, but there was light in his eyes. He glanced at Starrk for a moment before looking back up to meet Jyuushirou’s gaze.

“… Alright.”

The reaction wasn’t what he had hoped for. But then again, he supposed it was better than nothing.

Jyuushirou nodded. He turned to look at Kuchiki, who was staring at him with wild, shocked eyes. But she was _looking_ at him, at least – he suspected that Byakuya’s hand on her shoulder had much to do with it.

“Will you help bring Lilynette-chan to the Fourth, Kuchiki?”

“I…” Kuchiki started. Her eyes flickered down to Lilynette, and her touch was gentle as she used a corner of her ripped sleeve to wipe the tears away from those squeezed-shut eyes.

“Lilynette should go to the Fourth,” Kuchiki said calmly. “But I can’t help to bring her there, Ukitake-taichou. She is too heavy for me to carry like this.”

The tone of her voice was a variation of what she had sounded like right after Kaien had died by her blade. Jyuushirou hid a wince.

Byakuya was staring at his sister. His eyes, as always, were veiled, but not enough to avoid Jyuushirou’s gaze: _this couldn’t be_. Jyuushirou wanted to shout a him, to shake him, to tell him to stop thinking about the implications of Kuchiki’s presence by Lilynette’s side right now and to focus on the situation at hand.

He knew, however, that those very thoughts were already in Byakuya’s head. So Jyuushirou simply waited, his hand tightening on Kyouraku’s fingers to stop him from moving.

“I will carry her, Rukia,” Byakuya said eventually. “And you will come with us.”

Kuchiki’s eyes snapped towards her brother. After a long moment, the fog finally cleared.

She nodded. “Thank you, nii-sama.”

Slowly, she stroked her fingers through Lilynette’s hair again. The two siblings exchanged a glance before Byakuya slid his arms below the unconscious Arrancar’s body, lifting her up and standing. 

Beside him, Kyouraku had already stood. Starrk laid limp in his arms. Jyuushirou did not miss the tightness of his friend's grip, knuckles white as if he was afraid that Starrk would die, or vanish entirely, the moment he let go.

“I’ll stay here and make sure that Grimmjow-san and Ichigo don’t kill each other,” Jyuushirou said softly. He wasn’t sure if any of them heard him – their silence was a heavy, weighted thing.

Waving a hand, he opened a senkaimon that would drop them off right in front of the Fourth Division.

Byakuya strode in immediately. Kuchiki was standing by his side, matching him step by step. Her hand, Jyuushirou noticed, was clenched, trembling, around a corner of Lilynette’s yukata.

“Ukitake,” Kyouraku said just as he was about to turn away.

Jyuushirou stopped in his tracks. He did not turn around.

“Thank me by making sure that Starrk-san and Lilynette-chan are well, Kyouraku,” he said softly, letting his smile seep into his voice. “They are important to me as well.”

The sound of the senkaimon’s doors closing was his only reply.

***

A month or so ago, right when winter was turning to spring, Shunsui had shown him a curious contraption. The Captain had told him that it was a camera, but it was large and bulky, completely unlike the tiny, fly-like creatures that Aizen had once used to keep an eye on his soldiers in Las Noches.

That wasn’t the only difference: the images that Shunsui’s contraption had captured were all black and white. Colours were exorcised the moment the shutter was pressed, until nothing remained except stark monochrome. At the time, Starrk had stared at the pictures developed, his heart aching strangely at the sight of Shunsui’s face so flat and colourless.

Not even Hueco Mundo had been so devoid of colour. The light of the moon swept all brightness away, but Starrk’s skin didn’t look as grey as it did here.

‘Here’ was a world where everything was black and white and grey. Starrk slowly sat up, staring at his hand over his chest where Muramasa’s blade had sunk in. 

But there was no wound. 

He brushed his hand over the ground. The white grains shifted beneath his fingertips, sending up small clouds of grey dust before settling back down in the still air.

Looking forward, he noticed the bare trees in the distance. Their black branches reached out towards the grey skies that were dotted with some drifting blobs that Starrk supposed were clouds. 

“Starrk?”

Somehow, he wasn’t at all surprised to hear Lilynette’s voice. He turned towards her, and his heart stuttered, missing a beat. She was as tall as her resurreccion form, her mask fragment the collar of bone around her neck. But her eyes… they were a brilliant red, like a splash of blood, and her hair was a dark, verdant green. 

Colour that blossomed beneath her feet. With every step she took towards him, the white sands turned a faded yellow, and the trees she passed as she half-stumbled towards him changed from stark black to a slightly lighter brown. Now, instead of a photograph from a black-and-white camera, the world resembled more of a painted piece of cloth that had been washed too many times, its colour leeched out.

“Where are we, Starrk?” Lilynette asked. “The last time I remembered was Muramasa stabbing me… us… What happened?”

Instead of answering her, he reached out, his fingers brushing over her hair. The moment he touched her, colour seeped back into the fur on his arms, darkening until he could see the shadows of the strands despite the grey light surrounded them. He blinked, watching with Lilynette as the colour reached the skin of his upper arm. Corpse-like grey bled away, revealing the healthy tan beneath. 

“The Shinigami all have an inner world,” Starrk said finally, his voice soft. “I think… this might be ours.”

“An inner world?” Lilynette frowned. She took his arm, pulling it close as she ran her clawed fingertips over the now-coloured skin.

Looking up, she gave him a crooked grin. “Does this mean that I bring colour to your world?”

“You do,” Starrk returned a smile. “In the most literal way possible.”

She snorted. “Yeah, I can see that,” she said, turning from him to look around. 

Starting from her feet, the sand beneath them was gaining colour, spreading outwards. It reached the horizon, and Starrk watched as the colour bled even into the skies, turning the grey into something that reminded him of the colour of snow in bright sunlight: almost blue, if he squinted a little and tilted his head.

“Why are we here?” he asked.

Before Lilynette could reply, the air was filled with the sound of howls. Starrk turned, pulling Lilynette closer to his side. A pack of wolves ran towards them, their paws kicking up sand. They were coloured a faded blue, but their eyes were like Lilynette’s: a shade of red that was entirely too much like blood.

The wolves surrounded them, circling them. Slowly, they began to disappear, sinking into the sands until only the largest two remained. They were bigger than any of the wolves Starrk had fought in the past two days. He couldn’t feel reiatsu here, not in this strange world, but he suspected that they were the strongest out of all of them.

“You’re here because I brought you here.”

It wasn’t the wolves who spoke. Muramasa was suddenly there, crouched over a rock. At least, Starrk thought it was Muramasa: the voice was the same, but instead of a man, there was only a blob of grey that was half-melted into the faded desert scene.

The two wolves growled, turning as one to bare their teeth towards Muramasa. Instinctively, he reached out, gripping a handful of blue fur and stopping the wolf from leaping towards the shadowy grey blob. Beside him, Lilynette did the same thing to the other.

_**HE’S AN INTRUDER**_ , the wolf underneath Starrk’s hand snarled. _**HE TRIED TO HURT YOU. WE WILL DESTROY HIM.**_

Starrk blinked. After all the fighting he had done, the _last_ thing he had expected was for the wolves to want to protect them.

“You…” he started, swallowing. “Why are you defending me?”

The wolf turned, red eyes glowing with malice as they landed on Starrk. 

_**ONLY WE ARE ALLOWED TO HARM YOU**_ , it said. _**IT IS OUR RIGHT.**_

Despite its echoing voice, sounding both male and female, despite the fact that there was nothing in its body to indicate any form of sex, Starrk knew that _this_ wolf was female.

_**HE SHOULD NOT BE HERE**_ , the wolf held back by Lilynette snarled. _**THIS PLACE IS OURS, LIKE BOTH OF YOU ARE OURS**_.

That one… though it was slightly smaller than Starrk’s and its voice sounded the same, he was suddenly, absolutely sure that it was male.

“Oy, we don’t belong to anyone!” Lilynette protested, sounding irate. “Who are you anyway?”

_**YOU DEFEATED US**_ , the male wolf said.

_**YOU KNOW OUR NAME**_ , the female wolf said.

“You are Los Lobos,” Starrk murmured.

_**YES**_ , the two wolves said together, the sound of their voices filling the air completely. _**YOU ARE PACK. THIS IS YOUR TERRITORY, SO IT IS OURS. WE WILL DEFEND YOUR TERRITORY. WE WILL DESTROY ALL INTRUDERS.**_

The female wolf strained in his grip. Starrk held on even tighter, sending an apologetic glance to the shadowy blob that was Muramasa before turning his full attention to the- _his_ wolves.

“This is a hell of a change,” Lilynette said, sounding incredulous. “Weren’t you trying to kill us just now?”

_**YOU DEFEATED US**_ , the male wolf repeated. _**YOU EARNED YOUR PLACE IN THE PACK.**_

_**ALPHA**_ , the female wolf said, looking at the two of them. _**BETA**_. _ ****_

_**WE ARE YOURS. YOU ARE OURS**_ , both of them said together. _**WE DO NOT SHARE**_.

Lilynette looked like her head hurt. Starrk could fully empathise.

“I still don’t understand,” he told them. “I have never heard anything about Arrancar zanpaktou before. I don’t know anything about you.”

“And you just don’t make _sense_!” Lilynette cried, sounding more irritated than ever. “Why were there so many of you that came out from our swords anyway? Grimmjow only has _one_! Where did you two come from? We have never met you before!”

The two wolves growled together. It sounded oddly like a sigh.

_**WE HAVE ALWAYS BEEN HERE**_ , the male wolf said, his echoing voice sounding impatient. _**WE HAVE BEEN WAITING.**_

_**WHEN YOUR MASK WAS BROKEN, WE WERE THERE. YOU CALLED UPON US, BUT YOU DID NOT RECOGNISE US**_ , the female wolf said. 

_**YOU THOUGHT SHE WAS YOUR ZANPAKTOU**_ , her eyes glared at Starrk. _**BUT YOU WERE WRONG.**_

_**WHEN YOUR MASK WAS BROKEN, WE WERE THERE,**_ the male wolf said. _**BUT YOU DID NOT DEFEAT US PROPERLY. YOU ATE US WITHOUT KNOWING US. YOUR POWER FORCED US TO GIVE YOU OUR NAME, BUT WE WERE ASLEEP.**_

_**NOW YOU HAVE DEFEATED US**_ , the female wolf concluded. _**NOW YOU ARE PACK. NOW YOU ARE ALPHA. NOW YOU ARE BETA.**_

Somehow, Starrk thought that they didn’t mean those terms like how the other Hollows would mean it. His head was throbbing. How was it even possible to get a headache when he was supposed to be in his _own_ head?

The wolves growled again, straining towards Muramasa. 

“If we are Alpha and Beta,” he said. “Then we order you to _not_ attack that man.”

_**WHY**_ , the wolves growled in tandem. The word wasn’t a question, but a demand.

“We wouldn’t have defeated you properly if he hadn’t brought you out,” Starrk said, trying to make them see sense. If they were truly part of him and Lilynette, then they should have _some_ form of logic. At least, he hoped they did. “You owe your current forms to him.”

Given how the wolves immediately snarled, they didn’t seem to agree.

“We are only Pack because he woke you up,” Lilynette chimed in. She seemed to have decided that it was completely inefficient to pull on the male wolf, because she vaulted over the creature’s body to sit on him. “If not for him, you still would have been asleep.”

There was silence as the wolves considered their words. 

_**BUT HE IS AN INTRUDER**_ , the male wolf said, sounding almost petulant. _**HE SHOULD NOT BE HERE**_. 

“Then let him explain why he is here,” Starrk said, turning his gaze finally to Muramasa.

The grey blob shuddered for a moment before it stepped down from the rock. Starrk decided to follow Lilynette and sat on the female wolf to stop her from lunging at him.

“You told me that I was free to do what I wish,” Muramasa said. Starrk wished he could see his face, because he couldn’t recognise the tone of his voice. “You told me to seek my happiness.”

“Yes,” Starrk said. “We did.”

“I saw the path of my happiness, and it led to the two of you.”

“Eh?” It wasn’t the most eloquent of replies, perhaps, but Starrk frankly could not think of anything else to say.

“I have caused you pain,” Muramasa said. “I have hurt you.”

Exchanging a glance with Lilynette, Starrk shrugged. That was true, but, honestly, Muramasa wasn’t nearly as much of a villain as he was making himself out to be. He hadn’t dealt them new wounds; he had merely reopened old ones. When compared with all else they had gone through, it was truly nothing.

“Despite all that I have done, despite my actions having threatened those you care for,” Muramasa continued, “You still reached out your hand to help me.”

The grey blob shuddered again.

“Even now, when I have invaded your world, you defend me.”

_Wonder_ , Starrk suddenly realised. That was the tone in Muramasa’s voice that he previously could not identify. The man sounded as if he could barely believe what he was saying himself.

“Uh,” Lilynette said. She scratched the side of her head. “You’re making way too big of a deal about everything, seriously.”

There was a stunned sort of silence from the grey blob. Lilynette sighed.

“Sure, you lied, you manipulated people, and you got into their heads and pretty much made them fight against pretty much themselves...” She shrugged. “But unlike most of the people we know who do all those things, you had a pretty good reason for it.”

“… I don’t understand,” Muramasa said uncertainly.

“What Lilynette is trying to say is,” Starrk interrupted, “We understand very well the depths of desperation loneliness can make a person sink to. We know how much it hurts to try to reach out to someone and yet be seen only as a tool.”

“And we know what it’s like to be so desperate to have _someone_ who acknowledge us that we’re okay with being treated like shit,” Lilynette added, snorting. “Don’t deny it, Starrk. Aizen treated us like shit.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Starrk protested. He blinked at his other half’s startled glance at him. Was it _really_ that surprising?

… Ah, it was. When had he stopped making excuses for Aizen’s behaviour? When had he stopped blaming himself? 

He remembered the warmth of Shunsui’s arms, the beauty of his words, and even the weight of his hand on his shoulder. Starrk ducked his head, pushing those thoughts away. This wasn’t the time now; he had to focus so that he could get out of his own head back into the real world.

Shunsui must be worried by now.

“Anyway,” he continued hurriedly. “Nothing we have done is special in any way, so… I don’t understand why you have decided that your path to freedom is _here.”_

“Nothing special,” Muramasa repeated. There was a weighted pause before he chuckled, the sound raspingly strange. “You have looked into my heart, and you have understood me. You have acknowledged me.”

His voice changed, turning wistful. “No one has ever done that. Not even…”

“Not even Kouga, but then he was an asshole and treated you like shit,” Lilynette helpfully finished for him.

Starrk reached over, carefully making sure that the wolf underneath him didn’t have room to move, and smacked the back of her head.

“Ow!”

“Will the two of you treat me better, then?” Muramasa asked, interrupting Lilynette before she could protest further. 

“If I pursue this path of freedom, I will stand by your side, but I will no longer be Muramasa,” he told them. “As _your_ sword, I will be reshaped entirely.”

Was that even possible? But then again, Muramasa was… here, in his inner world. He was offering to become their zanpaktou, becoming their _second_ zanpaktou. Surely if he hadn’t thought it possible, then he wouldn’t have stabbed them in the first place.

“What will you become?” Starrk asked softly instead. 

Muramasa hesitated. “I do not know,” he said finally. “So you must tell me: will you still look at me the same way, no matter what I become? Will you still allow me to stand by your side?”

Catching Lilynette’s gaze, Starrk saw his understanding of the situation mirrored in her red eyes. Still, it was so incredibly strange: for a man who seemed utterly confident, Muramasa was looking for _reassurance_ from the two of them.

“You know,” Lilynette began haltingly. “Starrk and I… we weren’t always Starrk and Lilynette. Even if your name is no longer Muramasa, even if your appearance change, or your powers, or anything else…”

She took a deep breath. “As long as you remember your past, we will still understand you. We will still look at you the same way.”

Starrk stared at her. Did… did Lilynette just imply that she had memories of their human lives? If she did, then why hadn’t she told him? How many secrets had she been keeping from him?

He shook his head hard, making a mental note to talk to her about this later. 

“No matter what you become,” he told Muramasa, “We will accept you.”

The blob of grey shivered. 

_**NO**_ , the wolves beneath their bodies growled together, trying to buck them off. _**NO, WE CANNOT ALLOW THIS. YOU ARE PACK. HE IS AN INTRUDER. WE WILL DESTROY HIM.**_

Starrk dug his heels into the dirt beneath his feet, crouching over the huge creature and holding it down. Lilynette fisted her hands on top of the grey wolf’s head, shoving it to the floor.

“He is no longer an intruder,” Starrk said firmly. “He will be Pack. He will be part of us.”

_**NO**_ , the wolves said again, struggling against their grips.

“ _We_ say he is now Pack,” Lilynette added. “You two said we defeated you, so listen to us already, dammit!”

Turning his eyes up, Starrk stared straight into the grey blob. “We _will_ accept you, no matter what you become,” he insisted. “So come!” 

No form appeared from the shadows; the grey did not change into hands. But there were a matched pair of swords suddenly, the blades gleaming in the dull light.

This time, when Muramasa sank a _wakizashi_ into his body and a _katana_ into Lilynette’s, Starrk wasn’t surprised at all.

Even though he had accepted this; even though he meant every word he said to Muramasa, Starrk couldn’t help but start to scream as the pain ripped through his entire body.

His soul was being pulled apart, piece by piece.

***

Lilynette was lying on the bed, silent and still in a way she had never been when awake. The chair beside her was empty – Rukia-chan had left but moments ago, forcibly dragged away by the combined might of Abarai and her brother for a shower and some rest.

Shunsui tore his eyes away from her, focusing on the form on the bed.

Starrk’s chest moved slowly up and down, taking breaths not even Retsu-senpai was sure he needed. His entire body was still aside from it; those inhales and exhales were so shallow that they did not even make his nostrils flare. On his chest, exposed by the thin white patient’s yukata, his Hollow hole was covered by a layer of rough, scaley skin. Like a scab.

On top of the nightstand rested the pair of wrist restraints that one of the Fourth Division members had picked up from Sokyouku Hill. Resting against it, looking perfectly innocuous, was Starrk’s _katana_ … and his _wakizashi_.

The shorter sword had a different hilt design than its partner. Instead of the flames and teeth, it resembled the rays of a sun, spreading outwards from where the handle met the hilt. Shunsui reached out to touch it. The sound of his nail clicking against metal echoed throughout the empty room, drowning out the soft inhale-exhale of Starrk’s breathing.

Fingers glided down the scabbard, over the wood, and drifted over the sheets. Slowly, ever so slowly, Shunsui allowed his nails to lightly brush over Starrk’s arms. The fur had disappeared a few hours ago, fading into soft blue light. The fangs followed them. Now the man lying on the bed seemed nothing more than a man; one with a curious bone necklace encircling his neck and a new-healed wound on his chest.

“You’re pathetic.”

Shunsui didn’t turn around. He knew that voice, and though he had seen her in this form before only once, he had no wish to turn.

In the deep forests of his mind, full of shadows and strange, secretive cries, she had appeared to him as a _nue_ : a skinless skull full of teeth joined to the torso of a tiger with parts of the flesh ripped out to reveal the bones beneath, and a tail like a snake’s. Not once had he ever heard her voice unvarnished like this, for whenever she spoke, the winds would come, distorting the sound. Whenever she spoke, petals and leaves would fall from the endless trees of the forest, dancing around her feet like children playing tag.

He knew he wasn’t the only one shocked by the humanoid appearance of his zanpaktou when manifested through Muramasa’s power. Ukitake’s sword spirit had always been a pair of _melusine_ – beautiful, androgynous men with long serpent-like tails – with lightning for teeth and waves constantly playing between their scales, but they appeared in this world as two twin boys who wanted nothing but to play.

His friend had so much more trouble accepting his zanpaktou's new forms than he had.

“I miss the way the wind blows whenever you speak,” he said softly, contemplatively. “I miss the way I had to strain to hear your words, as if you are always playing a game, always testing to me if I still deserve your power.”

Turning his head, he met the two eyes of the two forms of his zanpaktou. It was still strange to see turquoise eyes when he had only met empty eye sockets for a thousand years.

“If this is your true form, why have you hidden it from me for so long?”

The taller half of his sword glided forward. Her kimono swayed around her ankles. He had to strain to hear the _thud-thud_ of her zori as she moved. She looked, he thought wryly, like an exotically-dressed geisha. All she required was a shamisen slung across her back.

Her fingers were cold when she brushed them over his face. Cold and rough with invisible scales, like a snake’s skin.

“Are you displeased with our current appearance?” she asked, mockery tainting every single word. “Did you not dream that we would look like this once, when you were a boy and first heard a woman’s voice in your mind?”

He tipped his head up, practically nuzzling her fingers. 

“Once,” he murmured. “But not for a long time, for I have learned throughout the years that you are truly the most beautiful creature in the world.”

Her laughter sounded like the howling wind. 

“You thought me a monster,” she said. Her grip tightened on his chin, pulling him even closer. Behind her, the shorter half of his sword slid forward until she was standing in front of him. Shunsui met her gaze as she sank down to her knees, her hand flattening over his chest, right over his heart.

“We could hear your thoughts even then,” the taller half said. She gave him a smile that was both familiar and strange: a grin that bared all teeth, but with lips framing them. “You thought us to be monstrous.”

“Well,” Shunsui smiled crookedly. “You can’t blame a boy for his immediate reaction.”

The taller half laughed again. She was, Shunsui decided, _Kyokotsu_ – the wild bones, the sneering and raging demon wind. The shorter half, the mute half, was _Katen_ – the roaring goddess of flowers who seemed innocuous but whose fury and deadliness was multiplied by her silence.

“You have such a silver tongue,” she murmured. Her fingers drifted upwards, scraping over his stubble to dig into his hair. “Such a clever mind. You are right, Shunsui – I am Kyokotsu, and she is Katen. A demon mocks while she kills; a flower’s petal is silent even as her poison seeps deep into your veins.”

Her snake-fingers gripped his hair, pulling his face upwards to stare into her single turquoise eye. She leaned in, so close that he could feel the chill of her breath on his skin; so close that all he could see was the white of the bone on her head.

“Yet now you curse that silver tongue of yours. You curse your own mind. You curse even _us,_ your dearest tools,” she said, breath caressing the curve of his ear. “You curse all that you are, for none could heal this gaping wound in your heart in the shape of a man now lying on this bed.”

Katen stood up. With a flick of a hand, she summoned the scimitar-like _wakizashi_ that both was and was not herself, and pointed its sharp tip straight at Starrk’s scabbed-over Hollow hole, over the place that was his heart.

Shunsui did not move. He knew his sword well; knew that she loved best the most dangerous of games. If he did not know for a fact that he had loved alcohol ever since his youth, he would have thought that it was his sword that drove him to drink.

Hurting him and mocking him had always been her favourite game; she liked to twist him around her fingers, like a child with its string, playing a game of cat’s cradle. 

There were more than one reason why he was glad that he didn’t have to fight against her; that Muramasa’s spell had broken the very moment that he thrust his sword into Starrk and Lilynette’s bodies. Not only would his bankai have made every single person in Seireitei fear him, his sword had always enjoyed the look of pain on his face.

Once, she told him that it was such a rare thing that it thrilled her to see it.

So instead of grabbing onto Katen, he reached out and cupped Kyokotsu’s cheeks with both hands. He pushed her away from him until he could look into her single eye, and the smile he gave her was full of shadows.

“Sweet my sword is, to wish to rid me of pain,” he murmured. Shunsui had always reserved the most poetic form of his language for his sword. It was only fitting, for she spoke to him in poetry as well. “But if that blade, you and her and me all, sinks into his heart, mine will become a ragged thing, unworthy for your abode.”

Kyokotsu raised an eyebrow. “Surely you are not such a fool to believe that we live in your heart.”

“Do you not?” Shunsui countered, raising a brow of his own. “Surely it is not merely my mind you see. Do this clear, bright eye not realise that my heart had carved itself open to fit you within, and the wound is so old that it can never be filled again?”

Katen’s shoulders shook. Spring flowers appeared near her feet. Kyokotsu smiled, a sweeter thing than what she had given him last, and she backed away, folding her hands in front of her as she gazed at him.

“You forsake us, silver-tongued creature,” she sniffed. “An abode we might have in your heart, but it is surely smaller than the space that houses this man.”

Shunsui smiled. Ah, _finally_ : his sword always had such a terrible habit of talking in circles, and it had always taken him a long while to prod her towards the reason for her anger. 

She was jealous. Both of them were.

“My sword’s blades are dark, and she chose to play her favourite shadow game,” he said lightly. “She might call my tongue silver, but it has no light strong enough to pierce through the shadows.”

“Of all things to plea,” Kyokotsu drawled, “You have chosen disability?”

“Is it so difficult to believe?” he shrugged. “You have been with me for long years, my goddess of bones, my goddess of flowers. I am not free; the years I have spent as Captain have made roots grow around my feet, pinning me to the ground.”

Katen shook her head. She slid backwards, moving like a shadow, or a floating flower petal, until she stood behind Kyokotsu.

The speaking half of his sword was not as subtle with her disapproval. She snorted, curls dancing around her cheeks on the rhythm of the wind blowing in from the open window.

“Those roots you tore off the very moment he requires your aid,” she accused.

“Only because he has lit up a path for me to tread with his plan,” he countered immediately. “You know full well that I dislike the shadows.”

Whenever he walked in the shadows, he feared losing himself. There was nothing inside that endless darkness: neither light nor sound nor anything that he could feel beneath his calloused fingertips. Often, he had thought that if he stayed long enough, he would forget what it was like to be see, to hear, to feel: to be _human_.

Kyokotsu stepped forward again. She stroked the back of his hand over his neck, resting over the beating of his pulse.

“You could have been a demon,” she murmured.” We could have the world as our playground. There is no light without shadow; no form without height; no creature without colour. There would be no one who could ever deny playing our games.”

Her grip tightened. Skin-scales pressed deep into Shunsui’s throat, constricting his windpipe. Shunsui did not move, simply waited.

Eventually, she sighed, leaning back again. “Yet you still play the fool, piling on weaknesses aplenty.”

He hummed softly under his breath, reaching out and grasping her wrist. She let him, and he stroked his thumb over the seemingly-fragile bones under the thin, rough skin. 

“Is it truly weakness?” he asked. “Was Urashima Tarou weak to have wished to return to his hometown despite Otohime’s beauty and the pleasures of Ryogujou? Was it not his return, was it not his fall, that made him such a legend?”

Kyokotsu snorted. “You choose to model yourself after a man who died of old age? A man like you, who has lived for a thousand years?”

“Perhaps I have misspoken,” Shunsui admitted easily, chuckling. “You think it weakness, my dear swords, but I see it differently: it is better named ‘humanity’. The wonders of Ryogujou could not erase a man’s ache for home and the sweetness of eyes sliding past him, acknowledging him as one of them instead of an unknown stranger or a guest.”

He reached out, brushing his fingers over one of Kyokotsu’s curls. “The shadows are too dark and power too cold to ever tempt me.”

“The colours are bright,” she replied, grabbing hold of his hand. 

“They scorch my eyes.” 

“The view is the most beautiful from the greatest of heights.”

“It is lonely all the way up there, where people seem like ants and my voice cannot reach them.”

Kyokotsu rolled her eyes. “Speaking to you is naught but a waste of breath,” she huffed, turning away from him. “You will never change your ways.”

“You do not want me to,” Shunsui countered. “You enjoy this game of words too much. If you win, then there is only boredom ahead of you.”

“Hmph,” she scowled, not bothering to deny that statement for both of them knew he was right. No – all _three_ of them knew, for he could see the barest curve of a smile beneath Katen’s mask.

But his _wakizashi_ was turning towards Starrk, still lying unconscious on the bed. Her one visible eyebrow disappeared into her hair.

“It is not his Hollow nature that draws me to him,” Shunsui answered the unspoken question. 

His lips curled up into a wry smile. “His power is great enough for him to stand atop the world, yet he does not kill even in the midst of a war. He has strength enough to colour all with his reiatsu, yet he looks at his restraints like they are gifts. He can plunge the skies into shadows, yet he marvels at the sight of light.”

Katen’s shoulders shook, and Kyokotsu rolled her eyes. 

“So the space you made for him in your heart is simply the one you made for yourself,” she drawled, looking completely unimpressed. “You are a complete narcissist.”

Shunsui shrugged. “You have known that about me long ago,” he said wryly. 

Katen shook her head.

“You would have been bored of him already if he is only like you,” Kyokotsu snorted, flicking a lock out hair out of her face. “No, master dearest, you believe you love for you can look at him and see distorted pieces of yourself in his eyes, and the shapes are so interesting that you think you will never be able to know them all.”

Shunsui tugged his straw hat down, hiding his grin beneath its shadow. Despite her claim that she could read his mind, his heart had always been a strange thing to his sword, and it was truly fun to make her guess.

Especially since not even he knew the answers to the questions he asked.

“And how do you see the care I give him, freely and asking for naught in return?”

His two swords stared at him, one with a blank gaze and the other with barely-concealed irritation. After a moment, Katen turned on her heel, heading towards the door.

“You bore me,” Kyokotsu declared, following her counterpart. The heavy silk of her kimono swept over the ground. “We shall leave to find greater entertainment than a static creature who does not know how to win the game he chooses to play.”

The winds picked up, slamming the door shut the very moment Kyokotsu stepped over the threshold. Shunsui stared after the two of them, tipping up his hat now that he had no need to hide his smile – his swords had _such_ a flair for the dramatics. He also carefully did not think about how he had won this particular bout; Kyokotsu said she could read his mind, after all.

Still, the conversation had lifted his spirits. That was likely Katen Kyokotsu’s purpose, her care and worry hidden beneath layers of mockery and false anger.

Out of all the games she played, _kage-oni_ had always been her favourite.

“Were they your swords, Shunsui?” a voice broke through his thoughts, raspy and hoarse. Shunsui whirled around.

Starrk looked at him through half-lidded eyes, and he was smiling very slightly.

“She suits you.”

Standing up, Shunsui leaned over the bed, casting his shadow over Starrk’s face to block out the light of the sun streaming in through the windows.

“She does,” he nodded. Gently, as if he was touching the most fragile of porcelain, he brushed his fingertips over the sides of Starrk’s face. Starrk turned towards the touch, as if by instinct.

“Welcome back, Starrk-san,” Shunsui murmured. “I’ve been waiting.”

Waiting and hoping. If he knew a god who listened to those who walked the realm of the dead, he would have prayed as well.

The other man sighed, eyes fluttering completely open.

Shunsui knew, in that one moment, that he would never be able to find the words to describe the colour of Starrk’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I’m making things up regarding 1) the nature of Hollows, 2) the nature of Hollows and Shinigami (it’s canon that they’re not opposite, though, so Muramasa becoming Starrk and Lilynette’s second zanpaktou is totally possible. Work with me here), and 3) Katen Kyokotsu and Sogyo no Kotowari’s forms in Shunsui and Ukitake’s inner worlds (as you can tell, I really like the zanpaktou being demon/monstrous in form. Humanoids are boring.)
> 
> Also, in Katen Kyokotsu’s conversation with Shunsui, they are mostly talking in terms of the ‘games’ that Shunsui uses in his shikai. Heights = taka-oni, colours = iro-oni, and darkness/shadows = kage-oni. The story Shunsui referenced is that of Urashima Tarou, who captured a magic turtle who took him to the underwater castle of Ryogujou. Google the story; it’s a pretty famous Japanese legend, and one of my favourites. (To anyone who watches Gintama, yes, it’s the same one legend used for the Ryogujou arc.)
> 
> I was super, super frustrated with Shunsui (and Katen Kyokotsu’s) role in the actual zanpaktou arc… as I’m sure you can tell.


	17. In Our (Bed)room After the War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People deal with the aftermath of a days-long battle in very different ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title stolen from the song/album by _Stars_.

After Starrk had woken up for the first time, he asked for Lilynette. Shunsui had moved to the side to show him the girl sleeping peacefully, swallowing back all the frantic questions bubbling up in his throat. But Starrk had only glanced at his other half, ensuring that she still existed and was safe, before he fell back asleep.

The second time, Starrk had asked for water. Shunsui had pushed aside the reports of the aftermath of the newly-christened ‘Zanpaktou Rebellion’ and gave him some, his fingers trailing over Starrk’s chest lightly. The scabs over his Hollow hole had flaked off, leaving behind raw, red skin like the aftermath of a burn.

He had gotten used to the taste of worry on his tongue by then, so it was easier this time to simply help Starrk sit up to drink his water, and lay him back on the bed when he fell back asleep. His throat didn’t even hurt from his silence.

Four days had passed since Shunsui’s failure, and this was Starrk’s third time awake. Shunsui had finished all of his paperwork – Nanao-chan had been shocked but pleased, and he knew that she would be holding this incident over his head for a long time – and Starrk was now leaning against his shoulders, eyes half-closed. Shunsui tried to not touch his hair.

“Where would you like me to start?” Starrk murmured, sounding adorably sleepy.

“Mm?”

“You’ve been waiting to ask me about what happened. So where would you like me to start?”

There it was again, Starrk’s uncanny ability to practically read his mind.

“I can feel the tension in your shoulders,” Starrk answered his question before he could even begin to formulate it. “And I know that you were worried. So it’s really not difficult to figure out what you’re thinking.”

Shunsui chuckled, resisting the urge to turn his head and nuzzle Starrk’s hair, to inhale the scent of hot sands buried underneath the antiseptic of the hospital. 

“It’s unfair that you can tell what I’m thinking when I can’t do the same, Starrk-san,” he teased.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Starrk asked, his eyes opening fully. “This way, you will never be bored of me.”

Stilling completely, Shunsui let out a long, heavy breath. “You were listening,” he said, carefully keeping his voice amused. “That’s rather rude of you, Starrk-san.”

“Maybe,” Starrk said, and Shunsui felt more than saw his shrug. “I was surprised that you didn’t realise that I was awake, but I guess it’s because my reiatsu level was too low at the time.”

“Are you upset?” Shunsui asked, for he couldn’t help himself.

“Is that the first question you’d like me to answer?”

“Do I have a limited number?”

“Would it make it more exciting for you if you do?”

“Starting up a game like that shouldn’t be my choice, Starrk-san.”

“When have I ever followed ‘should’?”

“Answering me with only questions isn’t making me confident that you’ll give me proper answers, then.”

“If you keep going on like that, I might just fall asleep again.”

“I don’t mind. I’ve waited for four days for answers, so I believe I can wait another one if I had to.”

Starrk opened his mouth, his eyes bright as they met Shunsui’s gaze. After a moment, both of them ducked their heads, and Shunsui had to stifle the urge to muffle chis huckles against the other man’s neck.

“This is why you would never bore me, Starrk-san,” he said instead, keeping his voice low and soft. “It is rare that I find someone to match wits with like this.” His hand slid down to wrap around Starrk’s shoulder, instinctively pulling him even closer. “To match wits with me, to know me, and yet is different enough that every event we go through, your eyes will see it differently from mine… how will I ever be bored of you?”

“I cannot speak as beautifully as your sword does, as you do,” Starrk replied quietly.

Shifting, Shunsui put enough space between them to be able to curve his fingers beneath Starrk’s chin, lifting that beloved face upwards to meet grey-blue eyes. “That is a mere matter of learning,” he said, in the same quiet tone. “Besides, have you not realised? One who speaks beautifully does not have a beautiful soul, but if the soul is beautiful, then the speech will shape itself in its like soon enough.”

Starrk turned his head, practically nuzzling Shunsui’s hand. The sound of his little beard scraping over the calluses of Shunsui’s hand echoed around them.

“You call my soul beautiful,” he said, soft irony winding around his voice. “But I have no name to call what I am now.”

His hand pulled down the collar of his white, hospital-issued yukata further, exposing the scar on the chest where the Hollow hole had been. “Once you said that I have no heart to contain my emotions, and that is why I still feel. But now the space where my heart should be is filled, but nothing has changed, and I don’t know if I have a heart left.”

Flattening his hand, Shunsui placed it on Starrk’s chest, gently unfolding the other man’s fingers and soothing the paling knuckles.

“This is an old adage, frequently forgotten: What you are matters less than who you are.”

“Is that something you believe in?” Starrk cocked his head to the side.

Shunsui hummed under his breath. “Ukitake is from a minor clan, far beneath mine in standing, and he is my best friend,” he said, lips quirking up at the side. “Nanao-chan is the same. My previous lieutenant is from one of the middle districts in Rukongai. And all of them are precious to me.”

He stroked the side of Starrk’s face. “Even when I knew you to be an enemy I had to defeat, nothing more than a Hollow, I looked into your eyes and knew your kindness, and I thought you beautiful. I mourned, then, that we had to face each other across a battlefield, for I would love to discover all that laid beneath your quiet eyes.”

Starrk let out a soft, shuddering breath. His head dropped onto Shunsui’s shoulder, and he leaned against him heavily, arms wrapping around his back.

“Muramasa had given himself wholly to me,” he said. His breath ghosted over Shunsui’s neck. “He was a Shinigami’s sword, but now he is mine, and so his name has changed, and so has his form. I do not know what he has been changed into.” He shook a little. “I do not know what I am now that I have two swords to my name.” 

“You are Starrk,” Shunsui said firmly.

“Is that enough?”

“It is for me. It will be enough for anyone else. If they shun you for what you are instead of seeing the soul within the shell, then I will tear the blinds from their eyes.”

Shunsui meant those words, and he stared deep into Starrk’s eyes, willing him to see what had been there ever since that morning on the rooftop of the Eighth. He was not a man who made promises easily, dependent on vague words and jokes to slip out of commitments. Truly, the road to suffering and death was not paved with merely good intentions, but the chains of honour.

The small, always cold and analytical part of him said that he was being a fool, for he was simply setting himself up for failure; the minds of others could not be easily changed, and not even the respect he commanded and the seniority of his post could make them accept his orders to view Starrk as himself instead of a mere Hollow. He might not even convince Yama-jii to continue viewing him as an asset instead of a threat with this new development.

But this time he would risk it. There was nothing else he could do: his heartstrings had wound themselves too tightly around Starrk, the knots so strong that he could have to shatter himself entirely to break them. 

Starrk’s eyes were on his, surely watching the shifting light as his thoughts raced through his mind. Shunsui’s eyes were never the most transparent, but this time, he pushed away the instincts to hide.

Whatever Starrk saw seemed to have pleased him, for he gave Shunsui a small, crooked smile. He leaned in, and the warmth of his skin made the air thin around them, made it shiver from the heat, and Shunsui tried not to twitch from holding himself back from taking those lips.

“Don’t hold back,” he said.

“Are you reading my mind again?”

Starrk chuckled, his breath drifting over Shunsui’s lips. His eyes shone with a light stronger than that of cold gems, and his hand teased the ends of Shunsui’s hair, tugging.

“You said that you are willing to wait,” Starrk said. “I don’t want you to wait anymore, so… why are you stalling now?”

There was, Shunsui thought, a distinct disadvantage to wish to stand beside someone who could almost literally pluck your thoughts from your head. He suppressed another full-body twitch.

“Don’t say things like that, Starrk-san,” he chided, shoving humour into his voice by sheer force of will. “You have no idea just what I wish to do to you.”

He prepared for Starrk to push him away, but the other man only chuckled.

“I can guess,” he drawled. “But I trust you, Shunsui.”

And what a sweet, fragile thing it was. Nodding, Shunsui shifted his hand from Starrk’s shoulder and drifted to his hair, slowly stroking through the strands. He tilted his head, taking a breath. 

“You smell of sunlight itself,” he murmured, trailing his lips down from Starrk’s hairline to the curve of his ear. “The scent of the morning sunrise as its first brilliant rays hit the clouds, burning through the waters with it first warmth.”

“Really?”

“Mm,” Shunsui said. “I can describe it as the hot sands of the desert, of the scorching sun, but I find my description to be far prettier.”

Starrk’s shoulders shook, soft laughter shivering the air between them.

“Is this all that you wish from me?” he asked, the barest hint of nervousness hidden beneath layers of humour. “To smell me?”

“Patience, Starrk-san,” Shunsui said, tracing Starrk’s skull slowly. He did not ask him to tell him to stop if he was going too far; it was already understood, the words woven in the threads of trust connecting them.

He darted his tongue out underneath the lobe of the ear, tasting a hint of salt. Strands of chestnut hair ran over his fingers, masculine-rough in contrast to the smoothness of the skin. He felt Starrk shiver, and he smiled to himself even as he moved further downwards, licking over the beating pulse on the neck before blowing air over the wet skin.

“You have a pulse,” he said. “You have a heart. You always had.”

“Shunsui,” Starrk said, his voice low and choked. 

“One day, my name will be the only word remaining in your knife-sharp mind,” Shunsui said, letting his teeth scrape over the sensitive skin of Starrk’s neck. “One day, you will look into my eyes and forget that you have seen any other sight.”

Slowly, he pulled away. His every exhale drifted over Starrk’s jaw, like brief kisses. Finally, he lifted his head enough that he met Starrk’s eyes, and he swallowed down greedily the sight of grey-blue hazed over with pleasure.

Their foreheads met. Starrk’s hands gripped onto his shoulders, but Shunsui’s hand was on his chest, keeping their mouths an inch apart.

“I told you that I wish to make love to you,” he whispered. “And I will. I will make love to you over _weeks_. I will touch you until every curve of your body is engraved on my fingertips. I will kiss you until your taste will linger on my tongue for decade. I will scour the memory of every pain, every tear in your heart, and replace it with pleasure alone.”

Starrk’s chest shuddered under his hand. 

Shunsui leaned in, and captured that hitching exhale with his lips. He kissed Starrk gently, just the briefest brush, and he leaned back once more. But Starrk chased him, his hand pulling Shunsui closer, crushing their mouths together. Shunsui waited until a tongue hesitantly nudged at his bottom lip, and he smiled to himself as he parted them, letting Starrk in and delving into his mouth in return.

Underneath the dryness was a hint of something sweet. Shunsui realised that he made a mistake a few days ago, when he described Starrk’s smile to be as sweet as winterberries: no, he tasted of _summer_ , of the first harvest of berries that were sweet and ripe, bursting with sweetness in the mouth. 

He could be addicted to this taste. He might already be.

His hand left Starrk’s hair, gripping onto the sheets. Gently, he nudged Starrk back to lie on the bed, their mouths never parting. Starrk’s tongue glided hesitantly over his teeth, and Shunsui sighed, unfolding himself until he was fully on top of the other man.

They were spiritual creatures, without any real need to breathe. But habits died hard, and after a few moments, Shunsui pulled back. Starrk’s pants created mists he could almost see in the air, ghosting over his skin.

“Every inch of me that you touch and kiss will be yours,” Starrk said, and emotions overspilled from his smile, turning his lips crooked. “Like a cool spring brook, you soothe my burns unti the pain they caused are nothing but faded memories.”

“I will do more than that,” Shunsui said, making another reckless promise. “I will cleanse you entirely, and make you anew.”

Heavy lids dropped over grey-blue eyes. “You will make me yours, then?” he asked, and his voice was completely blank.

Perhaps they were heading towards dangerous territory – Shunsui could guess that Starrk disliked the thought of being owned. But the answer came to him easily, slipping through his usual shields, bald in the purity of their honesty.

He grinned. “It’s fair, isn’t it? I have been yours since that autumn day.”

There was a long silence. Starrk stared up at him, surprise flashing across his eyes – like lightning across a clear blue sky – before his lips quirked upwards. It wasn’t a smile, not really, and, not for the first time, Shunsui wished that he could read the man just as easily as he was read by him.

Calloused fingertips brushed over the sides of his face, dancing lightly over his hairline.

“Kiss me again, Shunsui.”

He should refuse, he knew. He should instead let out all the half-formed questions at the back of his throat. But Starrk made him impulsive, the very sight of him cutting through Shunsui’s many-layered defences, built up throughout years of dealing with crime and war and the sheer bastardry thinking beings were capable of.

Perhaps it was because he knew, instinctively, that Starrk’s evasion and shields would never be used to harm _him_. Perhaps it was because he knew that to pry further was akin to laying siege upon an ally without having any cause.

So instead of saying another word, he leaned in, pressing his lips to Starrk’s again.

And he knew himself well enough to know that this wasn’t a compromise: this way, he could bask in Starrk’s presence, in his warmth.

His very own personal summer that would never turn cold. 

***

Summer, Rukia decided, as the season with the most beautiful skies. Bright blue and clear, with the barest scatterings of white clouds that dotted over the wide expanse… she could stare up at it for hours without getting bored, simply watching the changes the wind made to the tapestry every time they blew. 

She shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable spot on the rooftop of the Fourth Division. Her foot poked lightly against Lilynette’s calf, and she used that as an excuse to look at the other girl.

It wasn’t the first one she had used for the past four days. She had been surrounding herself with distractions and pretexts, and she knew herself well enough to know that even her thoughts about the skies were just another one of them.

But now Lilynette was lying beside her, and her mind shifted immediately to what Renji had said even though she wanted to avoid it a little longer. It was a matter of pride, really – she loathed to even _think_ that the stupid, brawns-without-brains oaf was right. But he might just have a point. There was something odd in the way Lilynette seemed to prioritise _her_ safety beyond everyone else’s; something even odder in the way Rukia’s own eyes couldn’t help but be drawn towards her even though she had never once looked at anyone else like that before.

No, not anyone else; any _boy_. There had been someone else who drew her eye more often than anybody in vicinity. Rukia stared up at the skies, trying to focus on the blue instead of the elegant and utterly _stunning_ visage of Shiba Miyako hovering at the back of her eyelids. Miyako-dono had been so graceful, her every step a dance, and the way she had wielded her zanpaktou… Rukia had watched her frequently, and tried her best to not be distracted by how Miyako-dono’s wrist had flashed with every thrust and parry when she practiced her katas…

She sighed heavily. She knew why she had always saw Renji and Ichigo as her (unwanted, unwished for) little brothers rather than any form of love interest now, even though the former had shown, months ago, that he might just be interested in a completely different type of familial relationship. She even knew the reason why she was so _glad_ when Renji had gotten over that infatuation of his. 

“Oy,” Lilynette nudged her ankle. “Stop thinking so loudly.”

“I’m not being _loud_ ,” Rukia protested, turning her head. The huffy, questioning look in the younger-looking girl’s eyes made her laugh, she quickly thought up of yet another excuse.

“I’m just wondering why we’re here instead of staying back in your room.”

“Eh, I wanted to give those two a room,” she snorted. “But if spring water does _anything_ , I’m going to beat him up.”

‘Spring water’? Rukia blinked, taking a moment to realise that Lilynette was referring to _Kyouraku-taichou_. She couldn’t help but chuckle under her breath: it was rather cute, actually, that Lilynette seemed to insist on using a different reading or the literal meaning of names instead of the name itself.

Wait.

“ _Kyouraku-taichou and Starrk?_ ” Rukia asked, sputtering and eyes wide.

Lilynette blinked at her. “… Yeah,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “Who else was in that room?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Rukia protested. “You mean that the two of them…”

“Please don’t tell me that you Shinigami have some kind of weird hangups about people of the same sex getting together,” Lilynette said, rolling over until she was lying on her stomach. Her body was barely an inch away from Rukia’s now, and incredulity was practically blaring from her eyes.

“Should you be lying on your front like that?” Rukia blurted out, her instinctive worry overcoming her surprise at the thought of _Kyouraku-taichou_ and…

The other girl waved a hand. “I’m fine. They’re just keeping Starrk and me here because they can’t figure out what happened to us.” Her eyes narrowed, and she shoved her face closer to Rukia’s. “And don’t change the subject.”

“It’s- no! We don’t have any problems with relationships like that!” she shook her head hard, trying her best to not sound defensive because it _was_ true. The average Shinigami lived for a hundred years at _least_ , and the powerful ones – the seated officers, Vice-Captains and Captains – lived for much longer. With a lifespan like theirs, it was a ridiculous notion to allow laws to limit the bonds they could make.

To be quite honest, Rukia genuinely did not know just _where_ the discrimination against such relationships in the Living World came from. She had been greatly encouraged (forced, more like) to study the classics when she was first adopted, and didn’t Hikaru Genji bed a boy when the sister proved too frigid, all the way back to a thousand years ago? She had no memories of the Living World – she died as a baby – but a hundred and fifty years ago, there had been _wakashudo_ and male kabuki actions who served as prostitutes at night, hadn’t there?

Granted, these freedoms were usually granted only to men in the Living World, but things were slightly more egalitarian amongst the dead.

Lilynette didn’t seem to believe her, and Rukia dragged a hand through her hair. “I don’t have any problems either,” she said quietly. “And I’m not even objecting to the idea of an Arrancar and a Shinigami together.” She would be a terrible hypocrite if she was. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Really,” Lilynette drawled, and Rukia breathed a sigh of relief when she realised that the suspicion was replaced by humour in that red eye. “I thought spring water was being stupidly obvious.”

“I don’t pay much attention to either of them,” Rukia replied wryly, and that was true too. Whenever the Captain and Starrk were around her, Lilynette was as well, and she was usually far too focused on the other girl to notice anyone else.

“Anyway,” Lilynette said, shrugging. “It smells better up here than in the room.”

“Smells?” 

“Mm,” the other girl said, nodding. “I don’t know it’s because Muramasa is now part of my Pack, or because Starrk and me beat the shit out of the wolves, but I smell better now. And it _stinks_ down there.”

Rukia probably wouldn’t find a better opening than this to ask the question that had been nagging at the back of her back ever since that first melee on Sokyouku Hill.

“Is that how you can always find me?” she asked, carefully keeping her eyes blank. “You can smell where I am?”

Instead of jerking, or looking surprised, Lilynette only stared at her silently. Rukia met that gaze, and she wondered once again about Lilynette’s age, because she seemed to act like she was twelve at one moment and so much older – decades older – the next.

“You’ve heard about my _pesquisa_ , right?” the girl said finally, propping up her chin with a hand. “That’s always how I found you.”

“Well, that’s the ‘how’ solved, then,” Rukia said, keeping her voice casual. “But… why? Why do you keep looking for me?” 

“I wasn’t looking for you,” Lilynette said, looking away. “It’s just that… your reiatsu feel familiar to me, so whenever I’m in the area, my body moves on its own.”

It was, Rukia thought, a good answer to her question. But it wasn’t the truth.

“But it doesn’t explain just why you seem to know so much, Lilynette,” she said gently. She didn’t want Lilynette to run away before she had all of her answers. “You… you knew that I was hurt by Byakuya-nii-sama’s actions, and you argued against him for me. You interfered in his fight even though you really had no reason to.”

“I had plenty of reason,” Lilynette said sulkily, still looking away. “I don’t like traitors.”

“I know you don’t, and I’m not accusing you of lying,” Rukia said hurriedly. She reached out a hand and placed it on Lilynette’s arms. “I just… I just wanted to know why you…”

“Why I keep helping you even when you didn’t need the help?” Lilynette’s voice has gone flat.

“Well,” Rukia paused. “It’s not that I didn’t need the help. I wouldn’t be able to fight against the wolves if you weren’t there, and if you didn’t interfere, I think I would’ve forgiven Nii-sama without telling him that I was hurt by his actions” 

She could have fought off the wolf that came at her at Sokyouku Hill without Lilynette’s help, though, and battled Sode no Shirayuki without her as well. But Rukia didn’t think it wise to say that out loud. 

“I… appreciate your help, but… why _me_?”

“There aren’t a lot of people whose reiatsu I’m familiar with,” Lilynette shrugged. “Spring water and floating bamboo definitely don’t need my help no matter what they’re up against, Starrk will just fuss over me, Yachiru has her Zaraki, and the other Eleventh Division bastards would just beat me up for interfering in their fights.”

All that was true, but Lilynette still wasn’t meeting her eyes, and that was strong enough incentive to keep prying.

“You could’ve done what Starrk had and protected the other unseated Shinigami,” she pointed out.

“Who said that I didn’t?”

Rukia’s fingers twitched at her side. This line of questioning wouldn’t get where she wanted, she thought, swallowing back her frustration. 

Time to change tact, then. 

“You said that Kyouraku-taichou is very obvious about his interest in Starrk,” she said, her lips quirking up slightly. “But I couldn’t see it. I still can’t, really, because… Kyouraku-taichou hadn’t rushed to Starrk’s defense.”

_Like you do mine_ , she left unspoken.

Lilynette dropped her head down onto the ground, bone clicking when her mask met the red clay. She rubbed her face with a hand.

“What do you want me to say, Rukia?” she asked, and it was that old, heavy voice again, that one that spoke of untold ages of experience that belied her childish appearance. “Why don’t you just ask it instead of going around in circles like that?”

Rukia rolled onto his stomach as well, bumping her shoulder with Lilynette’s. “I don’t know if you would tell me if I ask directly.”

Finally, _finally_ , that red gaze turned to meet hers. But there was a disturbing blankness there, and Rukia swallowed back a sigh.

“Try me,” Lilynette said.

Slowly, gently, Rukia allowed her hand to drop on top of Lilynette’s hair. She smoothed her thumb over the strands of dark green, following them from root to the tips, skimming over the warm bone of her mask fragment.

“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “How important am I to you, Lilynette?”

The red eye fluttered shut, and Lilynette tipped her head back. Rukia didn’t pause, trailing her fingertips over the strands of her hair, simply waiting.

When Lilynette moved, she pushed down her instinctive reaction. The smaller girl rolled on top of her, practically sitting on her stomach as elbows came down to rest on the tiles on either side of her head. 

“The first time I met you, you looked at me with suspicion like everyone else,” Lilynette started, her lips curving up into a crooked smile more suited to someone at least two decades older than how she looked. “But you… you didn’t look away from me like everyone else had. But you showed me how to use a sword anyway.” 

Smooth hands, now skin rather than fur, cupped her face, and Rukia knew instinctively that Renji was right. (Not that she would ever tell him.)

Perhaps she was being selfish. The answers to her questions were already there, thick in the air between them. But she had lived too long in silence, trying to grasp onto those ghostly voices with her bare hands and always, always failing. Was it too much to ask to have confirmation, to want to see the shapes of Lilynette’s lips when they formed the words she wanted to hear?

“You called me a friend even when I looked like a monster,” Lilynette continued softly. “You said I was _cute_. But… I think… it started even before then. I think it started when I realised how strong you are.”

“If I’m strong,” Rukia said, keeping herself still and trying to not lean towards those fingers on her cheeks, “then you wouldn’t have to keep rescuing me.”

“That’s not the kind of strength I mean,” Lilynette shook her head. “Having power – reiatsu – isn’t everything. Starrk and me… we had plenty of power, but we were still weak. We were weak enough that we agreed to become tools to the first person who met. We- _I_ was so weak that even though I thought that there was something wrong in what Aizen wanted us to do, I didn’t even tell Starrk about it. I didn’t try to stop him. I didn’t try to protect Starrk. I didn’t even say anything.” 

She took a long breath. She was shaking. Rukia wanted to hold her, to tell her that no one could have expected her to go against Aizen all by herself. But she didn’t interrupt. 

“But you… you stick with what you believe in, no matter what,” Lilynette seemed to be forcing the words through her teeth, leaning in until their foreheads met. “When you were arrested, you stuck with the punishment. And you forgave your brother and stuck with the love you held for him despite all that he did to you. You stuck with your beliefs with your sword, freeing her even when you knew that it meant that you will never be a Shinigami again.”

Lilynette laughed a little, the stuttering breaths ghosting over Rukia’s mouth. Her eye was bright, vermillion like the setting sun. 

“You want to know how important I am to you?”

“Mm,” Rukia nodded. She barely breathed.

Slowly, Lilynette closed her eyes. Her forehead felt warm against Rukia’s. “You’re my inspiration, you know,” she whispered. 

“I…” Rukia stopped, trying to breathe through a suddenly-closed throat. She had never felt like this, so disorientated and _warm_. Not even when Renji had declared that he would rescue her, or even when she was watching Miyako-dono practicing her katas. 

Her cheeks felt like they were burning. She took a deep breath. 

“I don’t know if I can feel the same for you.”

When the other girl tried to pull away, she grabbed her by the collar of her white, hospital-issued yukata, pulling her back down. “I’m not refusing,” she said. “I just… I just need some time to think about it, that’s all.”

Somehow, that was the right answer. Lilynette smiled at her, bright and child-like, before she tilted her head up and brushed her lips over Rukia’s forehead.

“Mm. I can be patient.”

Rukia started at the gesture, at those words. She sat up a little, eyes fixed on Lilynette’s.

“How old _are_ you?” the words burst out of her, unwilling to be kept within for much longer.

Lilynette laughed, her shoulders shaking a little. “I’m not really sure, actually,” she said, shrugging. “It’s hard to count years in Hueco Mundo.”

Smacking her fist lightly on one thin shoulder, Rukia glared. She was really getting tired of evasive answers. “Tell me the truth,” she demanded.

“I’m telling you the truth,” Lilynette protested. “I really don’t know!”

“Guess, then.”

“Uh…” she dragged a hand through her hair. “I died when I was thirteen or so, I think. Then I spent a few decades… maybe more… in Hueco Mundo as an Adjuchas, a few more decades as a Vasto Lorde before I split my mask and pushed Starrk out and became an Arrancar…. Then there was another few decades of _that_ before Aizen found us… I guess I’m over a century old, or maybe even two?”

Rukia blinked. “Oh,” she said. “You’re around my age, then?”

“Something like that,” Lilynette gave her a wry smile. “I’d say I’m older, though, because I remember everything.”

Blinking again, Rukia cocked her head. “Everything?”

“Mm,” Lilynette nodded. “Not every single detail, but… I remember _everything_. Both about the Living World before I died, and in Hueco Mundo.”

It wasn’t what a Kuchiki should do, and it surely wasn’t the reaction Lilynette was hoping for, but Rukia couldn’t do anything but _gape_.

“... What?”

Rukia had never, not even once, heard about anyone remembering their life in the Living World once they moved on to Soul Society or become a Hollow. Her textbook had said that receiving _konso_ wipe out the memories of plus souls so they could have a new start in Soul Society, and the process of turning into a Hollow destroyed memories along with emotions.

Lilynette’s smile turned wry at the edges. “Looks like that’s something else that makes me a freak, huh,” she said.

“Interesting,” Rukia corrected.

She had been thinking about this for the past few days, recalling everything Lilynette had ever told her, replaying all her memories of the other girl in her mind. And she recognised this now, this thing that was nearly self-deprecation but with a far harsher edge; recognised it as easily as the taste of her own blood on her tongue whenever she bit on her own lip.

“I’m a Kuchiki, but I’m also Rukia from Inuzuri,” she said softly, mirroring Lilynette’s crooked smile. “I can’t go back to Inuzuri anymore, because the people there would shun me for the new way I have learned to walk and talk. But I can’t feel at home at Kuchiki Manor either, because they never forget where I come from, even if it’s been fifty years. I’m somewhere in between the two, and I can’t really fit into either.”

Shrugging, she tipped her head up to stare at the sky. “But I think that’s okay, because… Rukongai has given me Renji. The Manor has given me Nii-sama. And between the two of them, I’ve… found my own place. And it’s an interesting place, far better than if I try to trap myself into one of them.”

There was weight on her shoulder, bone pressing against bone. Rukia’s smile widened into a grin, and she poked Lilynette’s cheek where it was half-buried into her own neck.

“You’re heavy,” she said.

Lilynette huffed. Her hand shot out, grabbing hold of Rukia’s finger. “Don’t poke me,” she whined. When she lifted her head, Rukia nearly burst out laughing at her exaggerated pout.

“Say,” Lilynette smirked. “Is this your way of telling me that my place is with you?”

Rukia rolled her eyes, smacking the side of the mask fragment lightly. “I said that I’ll think about it, won’t I?”

“Ow!” the pout returned with a vengeance. “You’re mean.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Rukia’s shoulders started to shake. They clung onto each other, hands gripping onto shikahashou and white yukata as they tried to stifle half-hysterical giggles against cloth.

Somehow, this reminded Rukia of days long past, when she was in Inuzuri and stealing food, and she and Renji and their now-dead friends had pulled off a successful theft and were high on their victory. But it was different: at that time, her nerves didn’t buzz at the feel of skin against skin, and she was never this short of breath, no matter how much she had ran.

“You’re the first person I’ve told about this,” Lilynette said suddenly. “Not even Starrk knows.”

After a few moments of complete silence, Rukia tipped her own jaw close. She swallowed. “What?” 

She kept saying that nowadays.

Lilynette sighed, slumping backwards. She shifted, practically wriggling around the rooftop before she finally settled the position she wanted – sprawled over the sloped tiles, staring up to the skies with her head in Rukia’s lap. 

“Starrk doesn’t know that I remember,” she said, and underneath the almost-casual tone was the weight of a heavy burden long-carried. “And… I don’t want to tell him.”

If there was nothing else Rukia knew about Lilynette’s relationship with the other Arrancar, she knew that they were two halves of one soul. She had watched the two of them, and they always seemed to be able to read each other’s minds.

She didn’t doubt that Lilynette was telling the truth. But it just seemed… strange, to keep such a huge thing a secret.

“Why not?” she asked, tugging lightly at the ends of green hair.

“He doesn’t remember anything from before we split,” Lilynette replied. Her eye seemed to look _through_ Rukia entirely. “I’d rather it be that way because… he’s an idiot. If he knows about our past, then… he’ll overthink everything and feel sad.

“He protected me so much when we were alive. He protected me during our time in Las Noches. So this time, I want… I want to protect him instead.”

Rukia tugged harder, nearly pulling out the strands.

“Ow!”

Good; that gaze was now focused on her, looking _at_ her.

She rolled her eyes.

“You shouldn’t be the one to kill Kouga, you idiot,” she said dryly. “Because you’re now doing exactly what you scolded Nii-sama for, and for even longer than Nii-sama had.”

Lilynette stilled completely on her lap. Her eye widened. “What?”

“You’re making excuses,” she said, flicking her finger at the side of the bone eyepatch. “You’re not really protecting him, you know. You’re lying to him _and_ lying to yourself that you’re protecting him.”

She had done the same thing, stifling her own desperate desire to live so as to try to dissuade Renji – and later Ichigo – from risking their lives to rescue her. But they had ignored her entirely, and she had learned throughout the war to be thankful that they were such thick-headed idiots.

“He’s going to be sad that you’ve been keeping this from him,” she pointed out, gentling her touch on Lilynette’s hair. Her words were harsh enough. “The longer you keep this from him, the more sorrow you’ll cause him once he finds out.”

“He’ll never find out,” Lilynette protested immediately, which earned her another flick over the mask fragment.

“You just told me that you’re older than I am, so why are you acting like a kid, huh?” Rukia scolded. She folded her hand into a fist, rubbing it hard against the side of Lilynette’s head, grabbing onto thin wrists with the other hand when they tried to stop her. “You can’t keep something like that a secret _forever_.”

Leaning down, she caught Lilynette’s eye, narrowing her own. “And it is better that you tell him rather than wait for him to figure it all out himself.”

“He wouldn’t figure it out!”

“ _Really_.”

“He hasn’t figured out all these years!”

“Eventually he’ll learn to ask the right questions. He’s smart, and you’re a bad liar.”

“I’m not—” Lilynette started. Rukia squinted her eyes further, turning them into slits. She probably looked ridiculous, and Lilynette’s lips were twitching at the corners, but she stayed like that until the other girl stopped fighting.

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally, sulkily.

Rukia patted her hair, making the gesture as condescending as possible. “Good girl,” she said.

“Oy!” Lilynette said, flailing a little. Somehow, she managed to throw herself backwards enough to slam her head into Rukia’s stomach, sending the air right out of her lungs.

Punching her instinctively on the shoulder, Rukia tried to catch her breath. She didn’t let go of those wrists.

“So violent,” she drawled. The effect was slightly ruined by how out of breath she sounded.

“ _I’m_ violent?” Lilynette yelped. “What about you- oy! Stop that!” Rukia grinned, continuing to tickle the inside of her wrists even as she flailed.

Rukia threw her head back and laughed. It was a capital mistake, because Lilynette lunged at her, pinning her to the ground, fingers sneaking beneath her uniform to tickle her stomach. She shrieked, attacking back, and their limbs flailed around wildly.

They were probably going to be scolded by Unohana-taichou for making such a racket. Her ribs hurt from laughter and the headbutt, and she was probably making herself filthy by rolling around the dusty rooftop like this. But none of that mattered, because Lilynette’s eye was shining with joy, and she was here and safe and…

And Rukia already had her answer ready.

But she would wait. She would wait until Lilynette had found her own place to belong. She would wait until she was strong enough that Lilynette would never have to rush to her defense again.

They would have to stand on equal ground first before she took the hand that Lilynette was holding out to her.

***

Kenpachi unlocked the door to the bedroom of his living quarters in his Division, stepping inside.

“No one will disturb us here,” he said. “Even Yachiru knows better.”

Grimmjow leaned against the wall, whistling loud and sharp, even as Neliel locked the door behind her.

“Nice digs,” the Arrancar drawled, lifting an eyebrow at Kenpachi. “Do all the Captains get a bed as big as yours?”

“Hell would I know?” he snorted. “It’s not like I go ‘round visiting people’s bedrooms.”

Though he had to admit that the bed was indeed fucking huge. It was wide enough to accommodate at least four people, even if he took into consideration the broadness of his own shoulders. And it was long enough that his legs didn’t hang over the sides.

The thing was his, but it didn’t used to be. He inherited it along with practically all of the other furniture here from the previous Captain, the Kenpachi he killed. There were a few brave souls who tried to convince him to redecorate, saying something about it being inauspicious to sleep in a dead man’s bed. He just told those idiotic fuckers that he was using a dead man’s name, and nothing could be more inauspicious than that even if he believed in some shitty superstitions.

“I see now why you invited us back here,” Neliel mused softly. She crossed the room on silent feet, perching on the side of the bed. “It’s big enough for all three of us, and it’ll be far more comfortable than Hueco Mundo.”

“Eh, I don’t really care ‘bout the comfort bit,” Kenpachi shrugged. “But we might get interrupted in Hueco Mundo, and I’d rather not stop fucking just because we have to get rid of some asshole with no brains.”

Grimmjow cackled, and Kenpachi was about to tell him to shut up when the Arrancar was right in front of him, grabbing hold of his Captain’s haori and smashing their mouths together. 

So this was how they were going to play it, then – straight to business. Kenpachi was fine with that; he had never been a man much for pleasantries anyway. He dug his fingers into Grimmjow’s scalp, holding onto him as they devoured each other’s mouths.

Neliel’s breasts pressed against his back as she wrapped her arms around him. Her hands slid over his haori, slipping through his clothes to find the laces of his uniform. Somehow, they didn’t even bump into Grimmjow’s hands, and the other man shifted his grip just in time for Neliel to undress Kenpachi entirely.

“You’re not the only one we’ve done this with,” Neliel murmured in his ear, somehow reading his mind. “But you’re the first Shinigami.”

Her fingers sneaked into his hakama, pulling the laces hidden within.

Kenpachi wrenched his mouth away from Grimmjow’s, licking his lips at where blood was beading at the corner. “I don’t give a fuck,” he said, purely honest. “Get your clothes off, both of you.”

He’d do it himself, but they were wearing some kind of weird stuff he had never seen before: shirts thin and tight enough to cling to their skins, stiffer blue pants ripped at the knees that were just as tight.

Grimmjow laughed, breaths huffing over his mouth as he cocked an eyebrow. “What, you can’t deal with human clothes?”

“We stole them from the Living World,” Neliel told him, amusement threaded through his voice. “Because we’d rather not wear the uniforms that Aizen had given us.”

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit,” Kenpachi snorted, reaching out and pulling at Grimmjow’s shirt. If the man wasn’t going to take it off, then he’d have to take matters into his own hands and tear it off himself. “Just get naked now.”

Neliel laughed in his ear again, her breath curling over his neck. Kenpachi turned his head, glaring at her, but she only grinned before pulling away.

He slipped out of their grip, moving to the bed to watch. The clothes didn’t leave much to imagination, true, but he was intrigued by the smoothness of their skin. Even Grimmjow’s scar didn’t feel rough beneath his hand.

And of course, there was… he reached out, large hand splaying over the gaping hole in the middle of Grimmjow’s abdomen. It was a huge thing, and his fingers could barely touch the edges. Slowly, keeping his eye on Grimmjow, he skimmed over the outside, letting his chipped nails scrape over the skin.

It was soft and raw to the touch, like a wound with the skin torn off. 

The moan that Grimmjow let out was loud enough to bounce against the wall.

“Zaraki,” he said, throwing his head back. His fingers fumbled over the bright silver button of his strange pants, and he shuddered. Kenpachi smiled, dipping inwards, letting his callouses stroke over the inside of the hole.

“Fuck!”

“Feels good, huh?”

“What the hell gave you the idea?” Grimmjow said, sounding breathless. Kenpachi didn’t look up, instead grabbing the man’s hips with both hands, pulling him forward. Grimmjow stumbled, practically falling on top of him, but Kenpachi was focused on that odd darkness, leaning in.

It tasted like nothing else he had ever had before, and Kenpachi had eaten a _lot_ of things. He wasn’t a poetic man, but he thought that this was what night itself would taste like. Cold, with a hint of pure water… He gripped Grimmjow’s hips even tighter, pulling him close as he chased the taste, trying to figure it out.

Hands dug into his shoulders, trying to shove him backwards. After a while, Kenpachi obliged, tilting his head up. He blinked: Grimmjow’s face was flushed, red spreading from his cheeks all the way down to his neck, and his chest was heaving.

“I’m going to come before we do anything if you keep doing that,” he warned.

Kenpachi grinned. He leaned in and licked again, just at the edge. This time, he kept his eye on Grimmjow, watching him as he threw his head back and gave the filthiest moan he had ever heard. It was even louder than the last.

“You make noises better than any whore I know,” he said.

If it was anyone else, any _Shinigami_ , they would be insulted. But Grimmjow only laughed, loud and raucous, and he bent down, practically doubling over as he slammed his mouth onto Kenpachi’s.

“I’m better at a lot of shit than any whore you know,” the Arrancar said.

Kenpachi opened his mouth to retort, but there was a hand on his hair, pulling him to the side. He went with it, cracking his eye open wider as he met Neliel’s gaze. She was naked, her full breasts on display, and he let his gaze travel down until he saw the Hollow hole – much smaller than Grimmjow’s – on the inside of her left thigh, right where the joint met her hip.

“Do you want to see if I taste differently than he does?” she arched a brow. It wasn’t a question.

“We aren’t going to neglect you,” Grimmjow said, cutting through any reply Kenpachi could make. He stepped closer to the other Arrancar, digging his fingers into her hair as he kissed her. Kenpachi watched, slowly bringing his mouth closer to that tempting darkness.

When he let his tongue swirl around the edges of the hole, he heard her moan into Grimmjow’s mouth; saw her twist her body as if she was unsure which man she wanted to arch into more. 

She was just his type of woman – muscles everywhere, with heavy curves that he could touch, full-bodied and not looking as if she would break if he was just a little rough with her. 

He tried not to think about how his type of woman was entirely influenced by the one he met when he was a kid.

They fell onto the bed together, all three of them, limbs tangling everywhere. Kenpachi swept his arm out impatiently, shoving Grimmjow to the side. “Get your pants off,” he ordered.

Then he went back to tasting Neliel, feeling the soft-wet-cold of the darkness in on his tongue. It tasted different from Grimmjow’s – woodier, waxier, like the underside of a leaf. He spared a moment to wonder how the hell she could taste like that when he saw no trees in Hueco Mundo before he was distracted by Grimmjow’s hands pulling off his hakama.

“Now who is the one complaining about being neglected?” Neliel asked, and hell, Kenpachi could smell how aroused she was, how wanting and wanton, but her voice was perfectly steady.

“Don’t mind me,” Grimmjow said, the grin obvious in his voice. “I’m just speeding it up.”

“I want to have him first,” Neliel said.

“Oy, do I get a choice with this?”

“No,” she smiled, it was exactly the same one she gave him right before she beckoned him into a fight. And fuck was it not the hottest damn thing that Kenpachi had ever seen in his life.

“Good thing that I’m good with that then,” he said, leaning in and scraping his teeth over her throat. “Or else I’d drag you both outside for a fight.”

“You’ll get the fight you want right here,” Grimmjow cackled. His weight landed on Kenpachi’s back as he leaned over his shoulder to kiss Neliel.

They kissed like they were fighting, all tongue and teeth. Grimmjow’s growls rumbled in his chest, shivering over the skin of Kenpachi’s back; Neliel’s breasts were pressed against him, her laughter making him shudder, and though it was uncomfortable squashed like this, he had the best damned seat in the house. 

“I can’t fuck her like this,” he said eventually, shoving an elbow into Grimmjow’s ribs. “Get the hell off of me.”

“You always give orders like that during sex?” Grimmjow asked.

“Only when it comes to stupid bastards like you,” Kenpachi said, but the other man was already moving, laughing again.

When was the last time anyone had laughed so damned much during sex with him? He tried to find it annoying, but the way Grimmjow’s ribs shuddered against his skin with every chuckle and cackle was too arousing for it to be.

He ignored him, turning his full focus on Neliel. She was lying there, taunting anticipation in her bright eyes, and Kenpachi shifted, slamming his hand onto the bed as he loomed over her. This close, he could _smell_ her - wet but dry at the same time, the undercurrent of hot sands nearly buried beneath her arousal.

When he slipped two fingers inside her, she arched her back, eyes widening. He knew he could just fuck her, but this was better – that taunting look was gone, and he knew it was his win, if only for a second before she wrapped her legs around his waist and _pulled_ him close. 

“Is that what you Shinigami call ‘fucking’, Zaraki-taichou?” she purred into his ear. “I didn’t realise that you are so… tame.”

“Anyone ever told you that shutting the fuck up might get you what you want faster?” he grinned, slamming his fingers even harder inside her. His thumb stroked around her entrance, finding what he was looking for in seconds. He _pressed_ , and she moaned, hair spilling over the bed, over her face.

Grimmjow leaned in to catch the ends of the sound with his mouth, and Kenpachi saw that his hand was around her Hollow hole, three fingers shoved inside, stroking and _fucking_ it. He rolled his eyes, pulling out of Neliel and thrusting the wet digits into Grimmjow’s darkness, sliding the insides of it and making him shudder.

“It’s a useful thing, this Hollow hole of yours,” he smiled, baring teeth. “I can fuck both of you at once like this.”

“Greedy,” Neliel said, her eyes catching his over Grimmjow’s shoulder. “But not greedy enough.”

She rocked her hips upwards, just to emphasise the point.

Kenpachi laughed. He dug one hand on her shoulder, keeping her still on the bed before he slid into her.

Neliel didn’t feel any different inside from the any of the women he had. But he couldn’t think of those women, because her nails were digging into his shoulders, and her heels pressing into his back, and he was fucking her hard enough to make the bed slam against the wall with each thrust.

Grimmjow pulled him to the side, crashing their mouths together again. And it was different, to hear Neliel’s cries echoing in his ears while he swallowed down the growls Grimmjow made as he stroked the inside of his Hollow hole. It took a lot of coordination, but hearing them fall apart, hearing them _lose_ this fight they were having…

Hell, it was worth it.

When he felt Neliel’s body shuddering even harder under him, he wrenched himself away from Grimmjow’s mouth. He bit down hard on her neck, forcing his reiatsu through her hierro, and she came around him, tight and rippling, and he was close, almost close enough to come. Gritting his teeth, he slammed hard into her. _Almost_ —

Then Grimmjow grabbed him with both hands and pulled him away from her.

“What the fuck,” Kenpachi growled, glaring into blue eyes.

Grimmjow’s face was red, and he was panting. But he grinned at him, fearless, before he pushed Kenpachi down onto the bed, climbing over him.

“She said she’s going to have you _first_ ,” the Arrancar reminded.

Before Kenpachi could even ask him what the hell he was talking about, Grimmjow was straddling him, grabbing his cock and sinking down on it. The tightness, the _suddenness_ of the entire thing made Kenpachi groan, and his hips thrust upwards.

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ come,” Grimmjow growled, tugging on his hair, pulling his head back.

Kenpachi forced open his eyes, squinting at him. “Aren’t I supposed to stretch you first or some shit like that?”

Grimmjow only smirked at him, and it was Neliel – fuck, how the hell did she recover so fast? – who whispered in his ear: “We have _hierro_ , you know.”

“Fucking useful thing, that,” he forced out through gritted teeth.

She chuckled at him, and he turned slightly towards her. He grabbed her by the arm, shoving her down on the bed even as he gripped onto Grimmjow’s hip by the other hand and did the same to him. He thrust forward, slamming deep inside, and Grimmjow fucking _yowled_ like a cat, and he grinned at the sound.

At the same time – he scraped his nail over the edges of Neliel’s Hollow hole.

“If you can be so fucking coordinated when I know how close you are to blowing your damned load…” Grimmjow hissed, eyes narrowing. “We’re not trying hard enough.”

Kenpachi’s eyes widened.

It was embarrassing and he was never going to admit it to anyone, but he honestly didn’t know what happened next. There were suddenly teeth on his neck and hands everywhere. Nails scraped over his skin, pain and heat bursting like stars in his eyes, and Grimmjow was tighter than he thought anyone could be. He had some presence of mind to know that it was Neliel’s hand on his throat, cutting off his air, and then Grimmjow did _something_ with his hips and Kenpachi was coming harder than he ever had in his fucking life.

He was _winded_ when he finally fell onto the bed, pulling out of Grimmjow rough enough to make him wince. But the Arrancar didn’t even seem to feel it, crawling over him, practically shoving his still-hard cock into Kenpachi’s face. The message was clear enough, and he let it slip into his mouth, down his throat, even as he shoved his entire hand into his Hollow hole, practically clawing at the insides.

When Grimmjow came into his mouth, he shoved the other man off of him, turning his head and spitting out the come onto the sheets.

“Give a man a warning,” he said, glaring.

Grimmjow laughed breathlessly. He reached up and grabbed Kenpachi’s hair by the handfuls, pulling him down and staring into his eyes.

“Fuck no,” he said, and there was so much smugness in his tone that Kenpachi punched him in the face.

He was still laughing as he rolled on his back.

They were filthy, all three of them, and it was annoying to feel the stickiness, to hear the two of them laughing at him. But he couldn’t help but laugh as well, dropping back onto the bed as he stretched. 

“It’s my loss this time,” he admitted, shrugging.

“Two against one, and you didn’t do badly at all,” Neliel said, leaning over him. Her green hair fell like waves of silk around his face, and he slid his hands through the strands.

“I’ll win at round two,” he grumbled.

“Give me half an hour and I’ll take you up on that,” Grimmjow said, and he was grinning with all teeth.

Kenpachi snorted. “You think I’m a kid or something? I need time too.”

Neliel rolled onto her stomach, giving him a bright smile through the veil of her hair. “We don’t think of you as a child,” she said. “No child can fuck like you just did.”

“Damn right.”

They fell into a rather comfortable silence for long minutes. Kenpachi was halfway to dozing when Grimmjow broke the peace. 

“Oy, Zaraki, are you disappointed?”

Kenpachi cracked his eye open. “’Bout what?”

“Not getting to fight your zanpaktou,” Grimmjow said, his voice so light and casual that Kenpachi’s hackles immediately went up. “Almost everyone else did, especially your subordinates.”

“I got a pretty good fight against Komamura’s,” Kenpachi shrugged. He didn’t say that he was actually relieved that his zanpaktou didn’t manifest; that he wouldn’t have known what to do if it _had_.

He might have shared his body with the two of them, but sharing thoughts and trust was an entirely different beast. He wasn’t such a fool to mix the two up.

“Yeah, but fighting your own sword should be better, right?” Grimmjow said, rolling over. His blue eyes were mockingly sharp. “Mine gave me the best fight I’ve ever had.”

_Better than the one I had with you_ , he didn’t have to say. Kenpachi heard it loud and clear.

Reaching his hands upwards, he stretched, yawning exaggeratedly. “Why don’t you ask her?” he jerked his head towards Neliel. “She didn’t fight against her zanpaktou as well, and she has even less of an excuse than I do.”

Neliel was looking at him through heavy, hooded eyes. She gave him a crooked smirk, cocking her head to the side. “I don’t take pleasure in fighting the way that you do, Zaraki-taichou,” she murmured.

“Don’t seem that way to me,” Kenpachi snorted. 

“Pleasure is a good reason,” she told him, smirk widening. “Especially with an honourable man, and when it is clear that no one will dies for it.”

“You have weird standards.”

“And _you_ haven’t answered my question,” Grimmjow said, shoving his face into Kenpachi’s. He shoves a hand against it, feeling the bone fragment jab into his skin, not nearly sharp enough to draw blood.

“I’m not disappointed,” he said, gritting his teeth. “And you’re a fucking annoying bastard when you don’t up a cock up your ass or a sword in your hand.”

Instead of getting angry, Grimmjow only laughed, loud and raucuous. 

Neliel crept forward, long limbs sliding over the sheets. Kenpachi took a moment to admire the contrast her tanned skin made amongst the white, to take in the stickiness between her thighs, before she wrapped her arm around his neck and tipped his head back.

“Don’t mind him,” she said, amused. “He’s still a work in progress.”

Kenpachi growled, grabbing Grimmjow’s neck with one hand and Neliel’s wrist with the other. He pulled them close, staring into their eyes.

“Both of you yabber on far too much,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Less talk, more fucking.”

That was what they were here for, after all, and Kenpachi had always been a man who kept his goal always in sight.

Grimmjow finally shut the hell up when his mouth was otherwise occupied, and Kenpachi thought that he might just understand the value of silence that Kuchiki Byakuya and the old man was always yammering on about.

He wondered what they’d think if he told them that he learned about this by having two Arrancar in his bed. They’d probably have an aneurysm.

Yeah, he was definitely going to tell them. But it would have to wait until later – now he had round two of fucking to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m out of practice; I haven’t written sex scenes in… over a year, or even more. I hope that it’s not obvious.
> 
> Also, I’m not at all sorry that the R/M rating for this fic is still not for the main pairing. One day Shunsui and Starrk will have sex. _One day_. (Insert evil laughter soundtrack.)


	18. All Sound the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interrogation, an exploration, and a lot of flowers. The author is starting to lose her ability to summarise chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title cribbed from _Little Talks_ by Of Monsters and Men.
> 
>  **Warning:** Slightly disturbing (but non-explicit) description of sex.

Starrk tried his best to not fidget.

He and Lilynette had been released from Unohana Retsu’s clutches after another three days in the Fourth. It was now a week since Muramasa had been ‘defeated’ – Yamamoto’s words, not his own – and the Shinigami were all extremely interested in what exactly had happened. Shunsui had promised him that he wouldn’t be punished – especially since he hadn’t done anything _criminal_ – but it was hard to have faith in those words when he could feel that clown-faced Captain’s eyes on him, eyeing him as if he was a particularly interesting specimen he couldn’t wait to dissect.

His hands twitched at his sides. He tried to not pull up his kimono to hide the scar that had replaced his Hollow hole.

“Now that everyone was here, we will begin,” Yamamoto intoned, slamming his cane down hard on the ground.

Looking around himself, Starrk realised that ‘everyone’ meant the Captains, the Vice-Captains, Ukitake’s Third Seats, Zaraki’s Third and Fifth Seats, and Kuchiki Rukia; nearly every single person who was directly involved in what was now named the ‘Zanpaktou Rebellion’ then.

“Coyote Starrk,” those old, hard eyes turned to him. “We’ll have your testimony.”

He exchanged a glance with Lilynette. They had been discussing about this, unwilling to head towards another situation where they would be scrutinised unprepared. When she nodded, Starrk took a deep breath.

“I’m not on trial,” he said quietly. “Will you let me release the one who _is_?”

There was a sharp intake of breath from nearly everyone who was present, strong enough to cause a gust of wind to blow through Starrk’s hair. He saw Ukitake lean forward, and tried not to smile at the way Shunsui’s grin was half-hidden beneath the shadow of his straw hat. 

They already knew what he and Lilynette were planning. They _helped_.

“What guarantee do we have that he will not attack us?” Yamamoto asked, eyes narrowed into slits. “What guarantee do we have that you will not aid him?”

Starrk shrugged helplessly; he couldn’t change their minds if they were still determined to see him as a threat. But Lilynette shoved an elbow into his ribs, glaring at him, before she huffed and stepped forward.

“We didn’t attack _any_ of you during the whole thing,” she pointed out, clearly irate. “In fact, we only were involved because we were trying to _help_ you guys. Why would we attack you now?”

Yamamoto’s eyes opened slightly wider, making him look less like a very old fox and more human. He glanced towards Shunsui and Ukitake before turning back to them. 

“Release him then,” he waved a hand. “It will serve to answer some other questions about the two of you as well.”

Well, that went easier than he thought. Perhaps the period of self-imprisonment had been good for the old man. Starrk blinked, and immediately stopped himself in his tracks – he might be spending too much time around Shunsui if his inner voice was starting to sound as snarky as he did.

He drew the _wakizashi_ on his hip. Beside him, Lilynette pulled the _katana_ from where she kept it on her back – it was too long for her to keep on her hip in her current shape. They glanced at each other before laying the gleaming blades against each other, forming a cross.

“We can only release him together,” he explained. “Even though there is two of us, there is only one of him.” He glanced at Shunsui. “I suppose that it can be compared to taichou-san’s two swords.”

Shunsui had told him to use his old name for him when they were in public; not out of shame, but simply because it would be far simpler if the two of them didn’t have to deal with suspicions of Shunsui’s objectivity.

“Call, Masamune,” he and Lilynette said together.

He could hear the gasp, the rising murmurs – at the changed name, the changed command. Yamamoto’s eyes had flown wide open, and Starrk finally saw that they were nearly black. But his attention was caught mostly by the sight of the form that was slowly solidifying in front of him.

Not only Muramasa’s name had changed. The face was the same, but the long nails and white clothes – his most distinctive features – were already gone. Instead, he was dressed in a black formal kimono and hakama, with a pelt of grey on his waist replacing the white obi and purple obi-age. The kimono itself had bright orange flame markings on the collar, and there was an eyepatch – identical to Starrk’s in his resurreccion form – covering one eye. Around his neck was Starrk’s collar of teeth.

There was absolutely no doubt whose zanpaktou he was.

Masamune tipped his head back and closed his eye, and the room was rocked by a sudden wave. The Shinigamis’ swords rattled in their sheaths, and Starrk tried his best to ignore the yelling and shouting. He _did_ notice, however, that Zaraki was staring at his sword with a fierce intensity.

“Once, my abilities were to break the bonds between a zanpaktou and its master,” Masamune started, his voice low and soft. “Once, my abilities are used to strengthen my master’s power, for he thought he could never have enough.”

He turned, and his smile was gentle, completely clear of the darkness that had so haunted him before. “Now I strengthen your bonds. Now I give my masters’ powers to your sword, such that they will never be broken.”

“Do that again,” Zaraki demanded, his voice cutting through the sudden roar like a knife. “Not for them. Just for me.”

Masamune turned towards him. Slowly, he nodded.

Zaraki’s sword _shook_ in his grasp, as if it was screaming. The chipped edge started to glow, and, in front of all of their eyes, the teeth smoothed out, just a little.

“If you keep doing that, I might just end up knowing its name,” Zaraki said, sounding thoughtful. Starrk never thought that he could sound that way. 

“So he’s telling the truth then, Zaraki?” one of the Captains said incredulously.

“Yeah,” the hulking Captain nodded. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Feels a bit weird, but, fuck, I can actually hear a _voice_ instead of this weird buzzing in my head.”

“If they find my bankai, I will be able to heal your bankai as well,” Masamune cut in before anyone else could say a word – not that they were going to, because Starrk noted that all of them were staring bug-eyed at either Zaraki or their swords.

… Now those bug-eyed stares are being directed at Masamune, who still looked perfectly serene. It was, Starrk thought, a good look on him; one that he was still unused to no matter how many times he saw it when he spoke to him inside that monochrome inner world of his.

“You know, there was said to be two master swordsmiths of the Living World – one named Masamune, one named Muramasa.” Shunsui said, sounding as if the thought had just struck him. 

“There was a legend about the two swordsmith that started during the Edo period in the Living World three or four hundred years ago,” he continued, folding his arms. “During the autumn of one year, the two swordsmiths decided to test which had the better sword, and they decided to go to a river and try to cut the leaves falling from the trees.”

“Get to your point, Kyouraku,” Zaraki growled impatiently.

Shunsui’s smile widened, and he tugged his hat down. “Maaa, Zaraki-taichou. Have some patience. I’m getting there.

“Both of their swords cut the leaves neatly into two with every swing. But the strange thing was… when the leaves cut by Masamune’s sword fell into the river, they found their halves and joined together agan.” 

He shared a glance with Starrk, who had to stifle his own chuckles. 

“It’s a curious story, isn’t t? And so terribly apt, with the change in the name.”

“I did not choose the name. It chose me,” Masamune said, spreading his arms out in an expansive shrug. “But this is a story I have heard before.”

“Perhaps that is why the name resonates with you so,” Shunsui said. He walked forward, looking as if he was taking a stroll in the gardens, entirely unaffected by the stares of everyone around him.

“But that’s not the only changes you have gone through, is it?”

Masamune shook his head. “The last one isn’t for me to demonstrate,” he said.

“Oh, me, me!” Lilynette said, practically bouncing on her heels. “Let me do it!”

Starrk waved a hand lazily. “Go ahead.”

Lilynette twirled her _katana_ in her hand, looking far too gleeful.

“I don’t like you as much as Starrk does,” she said. “So keep that in mind.”

With that, she raised her sword and stabbed it right into Shunsui’s chest.

Except that the sword dematerialised right before it could sink into flesh. What Lilynette held in her hand was no longer a _katana_ – it was just a hilt; the blade had completely disappeared.

The entire room had gone completely silent.

“Masamune can only hurt those who hurt us first,” Lilynette explained cheerful, pulling the sword away. It regained its solidity the very moment the blade was no longer touching Shunsui. “He needs our blood to remain solid when stabbing someone.”

“The only offensive power Masamune has is in the raw blades themselves,” Starrk added softly. “All the rest of his abilities are for support. He is completely and utterly worthless as a weapon against the Shinigami, because he has been remade as a weapon to _help you_.”

He probably didn’t need to emphasise that so much, but Starrk was getting tired of being looked at with such suspicion.

“Zanpaktou are part of a Shinigami’s soul,” Masamune picked up the thread. “When my masters accepted me into themselves, I was remade according to their desires. While Kuchiki Kouga,” Starrk was proud, so very proud, that Masamune’s voice did not waver in the slightest when speaking that name, “wished for power, and more power, Starrk and Lilynette did not want any of it. They only wish to aid, and thus I have been remade.”

“This is all _fascinating_.”

Starrk couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine at the voice. He did not turn, instead shifting his gaze slightly to look at the clown-faced Captain of the Twelfth. This was the man who defeated Szayel, according to Shunsui, and Starrk shivered at the look in his eyes – he had the same thread of madness that was in the Octava’s.

“We can find out so much from them! The natures of Hollows and Shinigami and zanpaktou, not to mention the connection between Shinigami and Hollow… Why, we might even be able to change the very natures of our zanpaktou like they had!” He rubbed his hands together gleefully.

“When can I have them to begin my research?”

Shunsui was already moving, one hand grabbing hold of Lilynette’s shoulder and the other around Starrk’s wrist. But before he could even say a word, Yamamoto was already speaking.

“Never, Kurotsuchi.”

“What?!” 

Yamamoto folded his hands on top of his desk, his gaze hardening as it landed on the Captain of the Twelfth. “There will be more wars coming,” he said. Though his voice was quiet, it filled the room entirely, like the smoke of a flame. “I cannot allow you to destroy one of our assets.”

He turned towards Shunsui, and Starrk might just be hallucinating it, but he could see the barest hint of a smile on those stern, thin lips.

“You have won your gamble, Shunsui, Jyuushirou.”

A gamble? Starrk’s breath caught in his throat.

But Shunsui was right next to him, his breath brushing against his neck as the Captain whispered: “Politics. Please don’t take offense. I’ll explain later.”

He nodded slowly. His instincts were screaming for him to pull away, that Shunsui was lying to him, but Starrk gritted his teeth and pushed them down. He _trusted_ this man. He would _keep_ trusting him until… until when? Until the day he found Lilynette with Shunsui’s sword through her belly? No, Shunsui wouldn’t— he pulled the thoughts into a forceful stop. 

Surely there was no reason for him to be so paranoid. Surely.

Yamamoto was eyeing the two of them, and Starrk really wasn’t imagining things, because the old man _was_ smiling.

“I will convince Central 46 to continue letting the two of you to go free, for you are not a threat,” he announced. “But in order for me to do so, I will need you to tell me _everything_.”

Starrk shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to focus.

“What do you wish to know?” he asked, trying to keep the tiredness out of his voice. He knew what was coming already.

“An explanation for the other swords you have and when you gained it,” Yamamoto said, raising his eyebrows. “The level of your power. All of your current abilities, including those in your released form. The events that occurred that resulted in Muramasa choosing the two of you as his new masters and becoming Masamune.”

He leaned in. “But most importantly… _What_ are you now? Your Hollow holes have healed over, and I presume it is because of Masamune’s presence in your souls.”

Starrk winced. He had been hoping that they wouldn’t ask about that.

“We have no fucking idea,” Lilynette chirped cheerfully, as blunt and unsubtle as a punch in the face. Given what he had seen from Zaraki and his Division, there was really no wonder at all that she fitted so well amongst them.

He bopped her on the head. “We don’t know,” he said hesitantly. “I don’t think there’s a word for what we are now.”

Shunsui made a contemplative sound. “They were Arrancar. They still are, and they have kept their zanpaktou. But they have also gained a Shinigami's zanpaktou. They are two, capable of releasing Los Lobos alone. But they are also one, because they can only release Masamune together. Yama-jii, I don't think language can encompass all that they are.”

“There’s a whole lot of words to say absolutely noth- mmmph!” 

Starrk wrapped a loving hand around Lilynette’s mouth, glaring at her out of the corner of his eye. “ _Quiet_ ,” he hissed.

She returned his glare with just as much force, but subsided. 

“Unohana?” Yamamoto was thankfully ignoring them, turning to his Fourth Division Captain.

“I have examined them for a full week,” Unohana said, just as unconcerned as Shunsui was by all the faces turned towards her. Starrk wondered how they did it; was it something that came with age?

“There _is_ the undercurrent of a Hollow in them,” she was saying, “but their reiatsu is almost completely Shinigami. Gaining Masamune has not given them back their hearts, but their souls have been repaired.”

Starrk blinked. _What_? Looking at Masamune, he saw his shock mirrored on his sword’s face. If what Unohana was saying was true, it wasn’t what Masamune had intended… somehow, that was a relief.

Yamamoto squinted at the female Captain. “Elaborate,” he demanded.

“Their souls are whole,” Unohana said. “But they, like a Hollow and unlike any Shinigami, also carry other broken souls within their own. I believe that they were only capable of accepting Masamune within them because they were almost whole in the first place.” She continued, serenely: “They are also perfectly healthy. Surely that is the most important fact of the matter?”

That gentle, sweet smile was the most terrifying thing Starrk had ever seen. He blinked, staring at her. He was extremely glad that she was on his side, and made a note to never, ever make her turn her ire towards him for _any_ reason. He might have survived Aizen, but he wasn’t sure if he could survive her.

“What of their connection to each other?” Yamamoto looked completely unfazed. Starrk’s respect for him upped a notch.

Unohana shrugged, somehow making that gesture look graceful. “They are one and they are also two. I suppose the closest analogy would be that of identical twins, or even siblings, but that comparison is inadequate to truly explaining the connections between their souls.”

Lilynette jerked in his arms. Starrk blinked, looking at his other half, but Lilynette was avoiding his gaze.

… What was that all about? Could Lilynette be hiding something from him?

He opened his mouth to ask, but he was distracted as the clown-faced Captain practically _lunged_ towards him. Starrk shrank back, but Ukitake was faster, grabbing hold of his colleague’s haori and refusing to let go.

The white-haired man smiled, all teeth. “If I may offer my opinion, Genryuusai-sensei?”

“Go ahead,” Yamamoto waved an imperious hand.

“They are clearly a new category of hybrid, one that we have never seen before. The circumstances are remarkable, and, personally, I do not believe they are repeatable. As such, I suggest that we name the category ‘Starrk and Lilynette’. It will serve well enough for now.”

Starrk was beginning to pick up on the game being played here. It was a dangerous game, and one that seemed to have his and Lilynette’s fates in balance. Every Captain who had spoken had their own agendas and personal interests in mind, and yet they were all hiding it behind politeness while constantly appealing to others’ interests. 

They were all spiders, spinning a huge spiders’ web. But Starrk wasn’t the prey that they were trying to catch; he suspected they were aiming for something far bigger – the Central 46 that the old man had mentioned, perhaps? Or were they all trying to catch _each other_?

Worse of all, it seemed that that playing this game was absolutely necessary: Kurotsuchi wasn’t hiding his interests whatsoever, and he was obviously not getting what he wanted. In fact… the ones who were best at playing the game were the three oldest Captains, and they had managed to draw Yamamoto to their side… to _his_ side.

Suddenly, Starrk was extremely aware that he had allies; _comrades_. Though this wasn’t exactly the kind of battlefield he had envisioned – he had always thought it would involve more sharp blades than sharp tongues, and definitely not in an enclosed room – but they were allies, nonetheless.

He swallowed hard. Turning, he whispered: “You don’t have to explain, Shunsui. I understand now.”

Shunsui arched an eyebrow. “You do?”

“Mm,” Starrk said. “All of you… you’re twisting words to suit your purposes, just like Aizen had. But… you’re doing it for my and Lilynette’s sakes.” Without them, he was sure that he would have been executed by now, or even worse. He took a deep breath, and forged on.

“I think that makes all the difference.”

The smile Shunsui gave him was bright and warm. He brushed his fingers over Starrk’s arm. “I knew you would understand,” he said.

It wasn’t an attempt to lie to or hide anything from him, Starrk realised. It was the opposite: Shunsui _trusted_ him, and knew that Starrk would be able to figure out what was happening without being told. He bit his lip, fighting down the instinctive blush at the thought.

“Pay attention,” Shunsui nudged him, grinning.

Right. The game was still continuing, and he couldn’t afford to simply turn it off.

The clown-faced Captain had been ranting for the past few minutes. He was petering off now, seemingly cowed by Yamamoto’s steady, narrow-eyed glare.

“’Hybrid’ will have to do. For now,” he said when silence finally fell once more. He waved a hand, as if batting away everything that the Captain had said. “And no matter what you say, Kurotsuchi, I will not turn them over to you as experiments. They serve too well as possible tools for war.”

Before the man could react, Yamamoto turned his beady eyes back to Starrk and Lilynette. 

“Now, regarding the other questions…?”

Lilynette heaved a loud sigh, scratching the back of her neck. Starrk was glad that she didn’t decide to pick her nose or something equally crass, but he had to agree with her.

This was going to take a long time.

***

“Take off your shoes and socks,” Rukia said, tugging off her own. “You can’t wear them where we’re going.”

“Eh?” Lilynette blinked, obeying nonetheless. “Is the ground all covered in tatami in Inuzuri?”

Rukia barked a laugh. “Far from it,” she said. “It’s full of pebbles and rocks and gravel and sometimes even glass. You’ll have to be careful and look where you’re going so you don’t cut your soles.”

“Wouldn’t it be smarter to wear shoes, then?”

“Not if you don’t want to be attacked the moment you get in,” she shook her head. “That’s also why we’re only going by _shunpo_ to the very outskirts, by the way. We’ll have to walk inside.”

Before Lilynette could protest, or make another comment, Rukia continued briskly. “Did you manage to get the ruined yukatas I asked for?”

“Yep,” the other girl nodded. “Don’t tell me: I had to bring these because wearing clean clothes in Inuzuri is asking to be attacked?”

“Yeah,” Rukia nodded. She hesitated for a moment. “Are you _sure_ you want to go?”

Lilynette scowled, punching her on the shoulder. “Stop asking me that!” she grumbled. “I want to see where you grew up, alright?

“I’m not going to rescue you if you get mobbed by someone,” Rukia threatened.

“I can handle myself,” Lilynette waved a negligent hand.

“Take this seriously!”

“I am, I am!” Lilynette yelped, covering her head to try to protect herself from Rukia’s violent whacks. “Look, I’ll be just fine. I don’t need Renji or Starrk to come with us.” 

She paused for a moment before she gave Rukia a crooked smile, the edges filled with secrets. “Don’t worry about me.”

Rukia dragged a hand through her hair. She _did_ try to be angry about Lilynette still keeping secrets from her, but that particular flame died before it could even ignite. Though Lilynette hadn’t told her just what had happened during her and Starrk’s time with Aizen, she understood perfectly well how long it took to learn to trust. 

Especially after the long morning and early afternoon the other girl had spent being interrogated by a whole group of Shinigami who still looked at her with suspicion despite all that she had done to help them. Then again, Rukia couldn’t blame the Captains either; none of them had witnessed for themselves the depths at which Lilynette was willing to sink just to help those around her.

Those witnesses weren’t allowed into the room. And Rukia hadn’t spoken a word in her defense.

Biting back a sigh, she dismissed the guilt with some difficulty. “Come on then,” she urged instead.

They changed quickly into the filthy, torn yukatas and headed out of the door of her quarters in the Thirteenth. Rukia had already told Ukitaki-taichou where they were going, so they simply dropped by his office to tell him where they were going before heading off. 

At the Division’s gates, Lilynette’s hand wrapped around her wrist. Rukia glanced at the point of contact before she smiled wryly.

“Don’t tell me that you can’t follow me without holding on.”

“Shut up,” Lilynette huffed, jerking her head away. “I just don’t want to get lost, alright? I’ve never been to Rukongai.”

It was such a terrible excuse that Rukia couldn’t help but burst out laughing. But she didn’t make Lilynette let go, instead moving into _shunpo_. Beside her, Lilynette was in _sonido_ was well, keeping pace perfectly.

Or maybe she was slowing down so she didn’t start pulling Rukia along like a sack of rice.

They stopped at the very outskirts of Inuzuri, right at the borders between it and the Seventy-Ninth District of South Rukongai. Pulling away from Lilynette, Rukia reached down. It was rather lucky that the autumn rains came just a day before; the dirt beneath their feet was still wet.

She picked up a handful of mud and smeared it across Lilynette’s clothes. 

“Oy! Rukia- what- stop that!”

“We’re still too clean,” Rukia avoided those flailing hands, muttering until her breath. “And we don’t stink enough. But if we have mud on us, then they won’t look too closely…”

Lilynette grabbed her hands with one of her own, glaring. After a moment, she picked up a fistful of mud and slung it right into Rukia’s face.

“If I have to be smeared in mud, then so do you,” the girl said triumphantly.

Rukia rolled her eyes, wiping the thin, drippy mess out of her eyes. “I was going to do that _right_ after I was done with you.”

“Sure,” Lilynette drawled. She wiped her dirty hands all over Rukia’s yukata, leaving streaks of mud behind.

“You should really stop worrying so much,” she said, squatting down to smear mud all over Rukia’s knees and ankles. “We’re not going to be attacked, and I’m not going to blow your cover. Alright?”

She lifted her head, her single red eye serious. “I know how to act in places like these.”

Rukia blinked, trying to not shiver from the frisson of surprise that ran through her. Honestly, she should have known that there was more than one reason why Lilynette was so incredibly interested in visiting Inuzuri. It couldn’t just be because she wanted to see the place that Rukia had grown up.

They headed towards the district together. Rukia bit her lip, quashing down the instinctive guilt when she realised that the conditions hadn’t bettered in the fifty years she had been gone. She and Renji had once sworn that they would change Inuzuri; that they would make sure to get into positions powerful enough to _do something_ about the conditions in the higher-numbered districts so that no one would ever have to starve or steal just to eat.

But they had forgotten. They had left Rukongai behind, running and running away from it, trying to become people who were deemed ‘acceptable’ by the Shinigami and nobles in Seireitei. Rukia had the power of the Kuchiki name, and yet she didn’t have the strength to ask her honoured brother to alleviate the cruelty of the place that had made her sister abandon her. Renji received a Vice-Captain’s salary, but he splashed it all on expensive sunglasses to pretend to be more than the stray dog that everyone named him to be, to give himself an excuse to not look at Inuzuri.

Rukia wasn’t a fool. All the years she had spent in Kuchiki Manor, learning how to speak as nobles did and listen to all the underlying meanings in their words and intentions, had taught her how to unravel Seireitei’s politics. The powerful did not want to lose their privileges and their position of power, and power in Soul Society had an obvious source – reiatsu. If it was widely acknowledged that the ‘wandering souls’ could own reiatsu as strong or even stronger than those born within Seireitei, it threatened the power the nobles have held for so many years, and their comfortable life would crumble and fall apart in front of their very eyes. 

So souls in Rukongai were starved. So they were left alone, without aid, with the nobles watching and secretly hoping that anyone with power would end up dead, returned to the cycle. And those who did manage to make their way to Seireitei were looked down upon, forced to hide or even erase their former roots to achieve the position of a seated officer.

She hadn’t been blind. She was simply paralysed, unable to do anything. As a mere unseated officer, as someone who was still uncertain about her place in the Kuchiki family, there was really nothing she could do.

“Here looks really different from Seireitei, huh,” Lilynette said, breaking out of her dark thoughts. Rukia blinked, turning to see the other girl giving her a small, wry smile.

“Yeah.”

“I suppose that people don’t change at all, not even in the world of the dead,” Lilynette murmured, leaning against the wall to stare at the milling, wandering souls who populated Inuzuri.

The comment didn’t make sense at all unless… unless Lilynette knew exactly what she was thinking about. She turned, staring at the other girl.

That was when she noticed the mask fragment that was still in full display.

Immediately, she tore off a strip of cloth from the bottom of her yukata. “Stay still,” she ordered, reaching over and tying the thing around the eyepatch and mask fragment. It was, she thought, a good thing that the mask was broken to a more manageable size. There would have been no way to hide a full helmet, especially with those horns.

“They would attack you even more if they even suspect that you’re Hollow,” she said, moving behind Lilynette to tighten the knot. Then she picked up another small handful of mud and splattered it all over the cloth to match the filth on Lilynette’s face.

“Okay, okay,” Lilynette rolled her eye, but she stayed still nonetheless. “Show me how you grew up already.”

So Rukia did. They walked along the streets, ducking into alleys whenever the main gang that ruled Inuzuri walked past. She knew from experience that these men kept track of almost every single soul who lived in the district they claimed as their territory, and new faces – especially two who looked like young girls – were simply easy prey in their eyes. 

At some point, they were hungry, and Lilynette was insisting that she showed her a ‘less fucking PG-rated version’ of her childhood. So Rukia pretended to steal – well, she _did_ steal, but she left money behind – from the fruits-seller, noting that the mean-faced old man had been replaced by a younger one with an even harsher face.

She tried not to think about how that old man must be dead by now. She also tried to think too much about how well Lilynette took to the role of a lookout. 

Now they were sitting by the canal’s banks, staring into the clean water, watching the fish as they wriggled. It was always a risk to try to catch any of them, she knew; the gang in charge always kept a guard out on the canal, to stop people from finding fish to eat to stave off their hunger. When she and Renji were children, they used to hide and wait until the guards were distracted – most often when they were fucking a woman who might or might not be willing – before they went for the fish.

Of course, she tried to censor the part about the distraction, but Lilynette figured it out anyway. Thankfully, this time, they didn’t need to wait for a distraction – they just knocked out the guards and left them propped up by some nearby trees. If the schedules hadn’t changed for fifty years – and Rukia didn’t expect for them to – then they had something like two hours or so to themselves.

They finished their apples, rolling the cores on the grass. Rukia sighed, and gave in to her curiosity.

“What do you remember about your life before you died?” she asked. “And don’t give me a vague answer like ‘everything’.”

Lilynette giggled, shoulders shaking. “Aw, you ruined what I was going to say.”

Rukia waited, raising an eyebrow.

After a long moment, Lilynette sighed. “The place where I grew up isn’t much different from this one,” she said, her voice so quiet that Rukia had to strain to hear her. “I mean… the air is a lot cleaner here, and there is clean water and I can see the sky… but the people’s eyes are the same. They all look… hungry and defeated.”

She tugged on the ends of her hair. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“I showed you the way I grew up,” Rukia pointed out. “It’s only fair that you tell me, right? Especially since you do remember.”

Lilynette laughed again, the sound darker than before. “Okay. But I have to warn you, it might not all correct. I remember, but I only manage to piece everything together after I died.”

“What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t think properly while I was alive,” Lilynette said, shrugging casually. “Some kind of brain damage from when my father tried to beat me to death when I was three.”

Rukia _stared_. “I think,” she managed to choke out after long moments of trying to process the information and failing, “you better start at the beginning.”

“Okay,” Lilynette stretched out her arms, dropping back to lie on the grass. “I was the youngest in the family, I think. My father was a tailor, or a farm hand, or something of that sort.” She slid her eye to Rukia, giving her an amused look. “Are you _sure_ you want to hear this? It’s not going to be a good story because I don’t remember a lot of it.”

“Yes,” Rukia nodded.

“Don’t regret it,” Lilynette sighed. “Okay, so, my father worked at some sort of job, but he lost it because… there were these huge machines, you see? They did work faster and better than people, so all the rich men were replacing people with machines and my father lost his job. When he did, well, he got angry and a little crazy... or so my brother said.”

“Your brother?” 

“I’ll let you guess,” she grinned, rolling onto her stomach and kicking her legs in the air. “He had brown hair, grey-blue eyes, and had been failing to grow a beard ever since he reached puberty. Oh, and he attracted a lot of weirdos.”

There was only one possible person who had a connection to Lilynette who could fit that description. Rukia opened her mouth. Closed it.

“ _Starrk_ was your brother when you were alive?!”

“Bingo,” Lilynette giggled. “I always knew you were smart.”

Rukia made an impatient gesture, telling Lilynette to keep going.

“I was born looking weird,” the girl obliged. “I had really pale skin, white hair, and red eyes, like some kind of ghost. And talking about ghosts… weird things always happened around the family. After I died, I realised it’s because Hollows are attracted to me… well, to _us_ , because they went after R- after Starrk too.

“So my father was pissed at the world and weird shit was happening and I looked like a ghost, so of course he thought everything bad was _my_ fault. Like I was cursed somehow…” she looked away. “He tried to kill me when I was three.”

Lilynette heaved a sigh. “You know, I actually am not sure if all of this is true. Starrk was the one who told me about it when I was older because I kept bugging him about it. He might have lied.”

“What happened next?” Rukia asked softly.

“I never recovered from that beating,” Lilynette told her softly. “Not until I died. But anyway, everyone in our town was starving at the time, so Starrk took me and went to the big city.” She frowned a little, concentrating. “I think its name was London… I never really noticed. Actually, I didn’t realise that I was in a completely new place until _years_ later and I finally realised that the rivers and trees were gone and there were a hell lot more people.”

London. Rukia knew that place; it was the island on the other side of the huge ocean that separated Japan from what was now commonly known in the Living World as ‘the West’. It was also, she thought wryly, the place where English came from.

This explained why Lilynette and Starrk’s names seemed so different, so much simpler, than the other Arrancars’. Rukia made a note to harass Ichigo into researching the history of England as soon as she could; she knew he would be happy to be of some use, especially if she played up on the fact that there was no Internet in Soul Society.

“I’m sick of talking,” Lilynette said, jumping up. “Let’s go explore some more.”

Rukia nodded, standing up as well. She didn’t bother to brush away the grass stain; it would add some authenticity to the mud caked in her clothes.

“I want to know the rest, you know, but I think…” she trailed off.

“You think?” Lilynette prompted.

“I think you should tell me the whole story after you help Starrk remember,” she grinned. 

“You’re not going to give up on that, are you,” Lilynette stated flatly.

“Nope,” Rukia laughed. “How do you expect me to when you’ve just told me that your story is missing details that only Starrk can fill in?”

She reached out, grabbing Lilynette’s wrist, tugging on it. “Now come on. I have a place to show you.”

It had been years since she had visited her old friends’ graves. She would tell them about everything that had happened ever since she left Inuzuri with Renji, and…

She would introduce Lilynette to them too. They would probably like her.

***

Mid-afternoon in spring brought along with it a subtle chill, the very last vestiges of winter winds drifting in air, caressing skin. Starrk shivered, enjoying the cold. The new change in his body had lessened his hierro until he could actually feel the change in the weather, and he stroked his fingers along his own arm, marvelling at the feel of goosebumps rising, pebbling the skin. He hadn’t even thought he was capable of such a thing.

It was so strangely human

A heavy pink kimono was dropped onto his shoulders, and Starrk tipped his head up. Shunsui’s face, upside-down, greeted him, and he returned smile for smile.

“Won’t you be colder than I am?” he raised an eyebrow.

Shunsui laughed, tucking the kimono even more securely around him. “I’m used to this weather,” the Captain murmured, brushing his lips over his hair. “But this is your first spring.” 

Starrk shivered slightly from the feel of the kiss. It was warm, but it didn’t burn; there was no blood trickling down his face.

“We could go inside,” he said, trying his best to not give in to the blush that was slowly colouring his cheeks and neck.

Laughing, Shunsui dropped down to sit next to him. “And miss this sight?” he asked, waving an arm around himself.

The gardens of the Eighth Division were filled with trees in bloom, white and pink petals gently floating down. There were bits of green too, unopened buds still clinging onto the branches. Starrk feasted his eyes on the sight, on the colours, so different from the dull grey world of Hueco Mundo, from the stark white of Las Noches.

He blinked, looking down as Shunsui plopped down, head resting on his thigh. Reaching out cautiously, his fingers found the tie of the other man’s hair, pulling it loose and fanning out the strands until brown waves sprawled all over the dark blue of his borrowed hakama.

Shunsui grinned up at him, grabbing his hand and nuzzling over the back of it.

“When I first became the Captain of the Eighth, I decided that the grounds of the Division would be the most beautiful in spring,” he said, voice soft and hypnotic. “No matter how much Yama-jii scolded me, I insisted on having the sakura trees planted here.” 

“Why did the old man scold you?” 

“Because of the irony,” Shunsui laughed. “I was born in Seireitei and I had never known death personally, and my power guaranteed me a long life; and yet I fill the place I live with the symbol of transience. But… I think this is the place that keeps me grounded. Every spring, I am reminded that, no matter how long I have lived, I should never forget that I shouldn’t let anything stop me from getting what I want, because I might just die the next day.”

Transience. The word wormed into Starrk’s chest, tugging hard on the knot deep within, threatening to unravel him entirely. No, it threatened to unravel the entire world, setting off a series of whispers in his mind: _this isn’t real, this is just another lie_.

He closed his eyes and breathed out hard through his teeth. He continued to stroke his fingers through Shunsui’s long, slightly rough strands, trying his best to still the minor trembling.

“Is that why you took your chance with me?” he asked, and was surprised at how steady his voice sounded. 

“Only partly,” Shunsui replied, his shrug pressing broad shoulders against Starrk’s stomach. “The only question my mind had to decide on was how far I was willing to go to have what I want, for my heart had already made its choice.” 

Starrk’s breath stuttered in his throat. He swallowed hard, and forced the words out: “What is it you want, Shunsui?”

“Mm?”

“You told me that you want to make love to me,” Starrk began, tilting his head back to stare at the trees. He couldn’t appreciate the beauty now, not with the heaviness of his thoughts weighing down on his lungs. “But I don’t know what that means.”

Shunsui opened his mouth, but Starrk slid his hand over it, stilling him. A pink petal floated down, its white tip stark against Shunsui’s hair, and he picked it up, rubbing his fingers over the silky softness.

“Sakura petals bloom and die within two weeks,” he murmured. “Their beauty is in how fleeting it is. Is that what you wish from me? A fleeting passion?”

He doubted his own words even as he spoke them. If it was merely his body Shunsui wanted, he could have it long ago, without much effort. If he wished for Starrk’s heart, then it was already hopeless; he had none. But if he wished for his very soul, then… then for how long would he want it? How long would it take until Shunsui peel him apart and saw him as what he truly was, until he finally noticed all the scars rent deep into Starrk’s soul, unable to be healed, and found it too ugly for his tastes?

Caught up in his thoughts, Starrk didn’t notice when Shunsui moved. He gasped, breath escaping out of parted lips in a rush, when grey eyes were suddenly close to his. Large, calloused hands cupped his face, and Starrk forced himself to not close his eyes.

Their bodies were barely an inch apart.

“The beauty of the sakura might be transient, but it is enduring nonetheless,” Shunsui told him. His hands slid into Starrk’s hair, holding him still and refusing to let him turn away from that fierce and brightly burning gaze. “For a thousand years I have gazed upon them, but the sight of them in bloom has never stopped taking my breath away.”

His fingers gentled on Starrk’s jaw, stroking downwards to caress his neck. The touch was strangely, strikingly intimate. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking about, Starrk-san. Tell me what brought this on.”

Starrk let out a shuddering exhale. His hands moved up, closing around Shunsui’s wrist, fingers pressing into the fragile bones until he could feel the thrumming pulse beneath the skin. He closed his eyes, leaning forward until he rested his forehead against the other man’s.

“You have done so much for me,” he said. “You have played dangerous games against your fellow Shinigami for the sake of defending me. You have stayed by my side, supported my ideas even when I am not sure of their source. What could I offer you that will be equal to that?”

Shunsui started, his body pressing against Starrk’s for the briefest moment.

“Starrk-san,” he said slowly. “What makes you think that you have to return to me equal to what I choose to give?”

“There is nothing that is ever given freely,” Starrk said, voice flat and dull. “There is always a price to be paid.”

He felt more than heard Shunsui’s breathing hitch.

“Is this,” the Captain said, his voice soft and careful, “a lesson you learned from Aizen?”

Starrk opened his eyes, pulling away. “Not only from him,” he said, carefully averting his eyes from Shunsui’s.

“Who?”

“From Harribel, who offered to see me as a comrade if I promise to give her information about what happens here that might affect Hueco Mundo,” he said, staring blankly at the grass beneath his knees. “From the Shinigami, who allowed me to stay when they realised that my power can be useful to them.”

He gave Shunsui a wry smile, sorrow tugging the edges down. “From you, who had to call me an asset just to get your comrades to accept me in their midst.”

There was a long silence as Shunsui considered his words. Then Starrk heard a heavy sigh, and he allowed Shunsui’s fingertips to tip his head up, and closed his eyes when he felt that soft kiss on his brow.

“Though I wish that everyone can see you as I do, I cannot force them to do so,” he said quietly, and Starrk shivered because it was similar, so similar, to what Aizen had told him before.

 _I cannot convince them to befriend you, Starrk._

The memories threatened to overwhelm him again, but Shunsui’s next words shattered them like glass.

“I cannot answer for their actions or their words, but I can answer for mine: I want nothing from you but what you wish to give.”

He blinked, eyes widening. “What—”

Shunsui looked at him, smile a little crooked, eyes darkened with sorrow. “Is that so difficult to believe?” he asked.

“Yes,” Starrk breathed, hands clenching by his sides. “I… Shunsui, I might give you _nothing_. Even after all you have done, I might still push you away. I might even leave, and never see you again. Will you be fine with that? Won’t you regret all your efforts if they come to nothing?” 

“Well, I would be disappointed, true,” Shunsui nodded. “But Starrk-san, I won’t be disappointed because all my efforts have gone to waste. I would be disappointed because your leaving will deprive me of your presence, and that is what I wish for most.”

“My… presence?” He knew he was gaping, but he was far beyond caring about how foolish he must surely look.

“Do you think you give me nothing by just staying here by my side?” Shunsui asked, leaning forward again, pressing their foreheads together. “Do you think I gain nothing by just feeling your hands on my skin, your fingers on my hair? Do you think I do not feel pleasure by the feel of your warmth, your solidity, against me like this?”

Not for the first time, Starrk found all words escaping him. His mouth was dry, but he didn’t dare to dart his tongue out for fear that he would kiss Shunsui. And if he kissed the man, he didn’t think he would stop, and he wanted to hear more.

“The sight of your smile warms me even in the very depth of winter,” Shunsui continued, his hand gently carding through Starrk’s hair. “When you let me kiss you, the taste of your lips is sweeter than any dessert could ever give me. Do you think that is nothing?”

“I…”

“Shhh…” Shunsui shushed him with a breath of warm air across his mouth. “Let me finish.”

Starrk could only nod.

“I did not do what I have for you for the sake of racking up a debt,” the Captain said. “I do it because there is _nothing_ that makes me happier than to make you happy. You see, Starrk-san… I frequently think that I am not doing _enough_ , because there are still such dark shadows in your eyes and nothing I do seems capable of chasing them away.”

“What if you chase them all away?” Starrk asked, barely able to speak. “What if there are no more wounds for you to heal?”

“Then I will bask in the brilliance of all the smiles you give.”

“What if…” Starrk grasped at straws, trying to not fall into the abyss that he could see looming right below him. “What if I don’t leave here, but instead… instead choose to be with someone else?”

Shunsui chuckled softly. The back of his fingers stroked over Starrk’s cheeks, infinitely gentle. “Then I will stay your friend, and let your happiness warm me from afar,” he said, so softly that Starrk felt the shape of the words more than heard them. “Though I don’t promise to leave the one you choose alone until I find them worthy of you.”

Starrk squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs seizing up. Blindly, he scrabbled at Shunsui’s shoulders, slowly moving upwards until he feels stubble and jawline underneath callouses.

When their lips touched, it felt like falling, like drowning. Except there was no hard ground to shatter his bones, no pressure to crush his lungs; there was only warmth.

“I see an abyss before me,” he murmured against Shunsui’s lips. “It should terrify me, for it is dark and I have no idea what awaits more there. But I’m falling and falling and I’m not afraid at all, because somehow I know that it’s safe, and it is warm.”

He pulled away slightly, tugging the pink kimono off his shoulders and draped it over Shunsui’s. At the confusion in those bright grey eyes, he laughed.

“You keep me warm enough to not need this,” he said.

“Starrk-san,” Shunsui started, but he placed a finger on those lips to still them.

“Just ‘Starrk’ will do, Shunsui,” he crooked a smile. “It’ll be strange if you still use honourifics with me when I’m already yours.”

There was only silence for long moments, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Starrk held Shunsui’s gaze, refusing to look away even though the sight of white-pink petals falling onto oak-coloured hair tried to distract him.

When Shunsui shoved him to the ground, Starrk only found himself laughing again. The grass made for a good cushion, and he arched up towards Shunsui’s chest as he was kissed.

It felt, tasted, so much better when he wasn’t in a hospital bed, when his nose and mouth were not clogged up by antiseptic and dryness.

“Of all times for poetry and metaphors…” Shunsui’s laughter was half-mangled by Starrk’s lips and skin. “You are going to be the death of me one day.”

“I’d rather not be,” Starrk murmured in reply. “I’ve been the death of too much to want to be yours.”

Shunsui’s fingers brushed over his face, trailing from hairline to jaw. Starrk tipped his head down to meet those grey eyes, his own widened in surprise at the sudden gentleness when it had been all heat and intensity just a second before. 

“This seems like a dream,” Shunsui said, and he was so close that Starrk could feel the soft edges of his words against his skin. “Tell me, Starrk: did you mean it? Would you really choose someone else?”

He blinked. Surely not…? But yes, there it was, the hint of darkness in Shunsui’s gaze, something that Starrk could easily identify as jealousy. Slowly, his lips twitched, and he couldn’t contain himself: he burst into chuckles, burying his face into Shunsui’s shoulders to try to muffle the sound.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Shunsui protested. “I’m being serious here!”

The petulance in his tone, so unfitting to a man Starrk _knew_ to be centuries his elder, made him laugh even harder. His entire body shook, and his fingers dug into the rich silk of the kimono, holding on as he tried to stop himself from convulsing.

When Shunsui shove him hard onto the ground, pinning him onto the grass, he was still so caught up in his mirth that he barely noticed. He _did_ notice, however, when Shunsui kissed him again, his generous mouth swallowing down the sounds, his body pinning him down, pressing the air out of his chest until he stopped laughing just so he could breathe.

But he was still grinning helplessly when he looked at Shunsui again. Reaching up, he slid his hands into Shunsui’s hair, mussing up the strands until they fell around that strong jaw and framed the high cheekbones.

“There is no one else,” Starrk said softly. “And there will not be anyone else.”

Shunsui cocked his head. Though his face was still, his eyes were brightening, turning more amused. “Why?”

“Don’t you already know the answer?”

“Indulge me.”

Letting another quiet laugh escape, Starrk obliged. After all, why shouldn’t he, especially after all the beautiful words Shunsui had given him as reassurance? Why shouldn’t he, when those words had loosened the knot in his chest and made all of his shields and defences fall down until he allowed himself to be surrounded by the warmth of the abyss?

Closing his eyes, Starrk smiled as he leaned forward until their foreheads touched again. “You’re like no one I have ever met,” he whispered. “You wield words as weapons, but they are tempered with kindness. Yet your compassion is not your weakness, it is instead the strength of the hand that wields your words.”

He let out a breath, letting it curl over Shunsui’s mouth.

“You showed me the truth behind the web of lies I was caught within,” he continued. “Instead of telling it all to me, instead of forcing me to choose between trusting you and trusting what I knew before, you _showed_ me. You allowed me to find out all I needed to myself, and so find myself out of the maze of falseness I was trapped in.”

Slowly, he pulled back, his lips curving up into a crooked, ironic smile. “Anyone who wishes to have me will have a hard act to live up to, and I don’t think anyone would bother.”

Shunsui stared at him for a moment before he threw his head back and laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest.

“I haven’t the intention to court you,” he said, still chuckling. “But it seems that it is exactly what I have been doing.”

He leaned in even closer, their bodies pressing against each other. Though there were some similarities – hard lines against hard lines – it was different, so very different, than anything Starrk had ever done with Aizen. Aizen had never looked at him with those eyes; Aizen had never touched him like this: fierce possessiveness tempered with tenderness, raging desire held back by love. 

“Indulge me once more,” Shunsui murmured, his lips trailing little kisses over Starrk’s cheek. “If someone else – say, Ukitake – has done all I had for you, will you be theirs?”

Starrk blinked. Shunsui was truly full of surprises today, he thought wryly, and turned his head, burying his nose into rich brown hair.

“No,” he said, the word sinking into him, burrowing deep with its certainty. “Even if they had done all that you had, I could not have been theirs. They would not have the strength to stand beside me, or the self-possession to stand back to allow me to fight my own battles, or the broadness of mind to appreciate my being able to pick them apart.”

He brushed a fingertip over Shunsui’s eyelash, watching as the lid fell close under his touch. “Only you have all of these.”

“No praise for my intelligence?” Shunsui teased, brushing their lips together. “I’m almost insulted.”

“I have already praised it,” Starrk replied archly. And he had: after all, what man could play dangerous games with words and _win_ if not one who had an incredibly sharp intelligence?

Shunsui laughed. “So you had,” he said, and Starrk found another reason to fall into the abyss. It was rare to find a man who could pluck the unspoken words from the air and bring them to his ears effortlessly, and he thought that, perhaps, fate favoured him this time to allow him to find Shunsui.

They laid there for long moments, breathing againt each other’s skin. It was warm, almost stiflingly so, for their bodies barred the winter wind from touching them.

Eventually, haltingly, Starrk lifted his hips upwards, just a little bit. He had noticed the heat there long before, at the exact moment when Shunsui had pushed him to the grass.

“I can’t do anything about this if you don’t move off of me,” he said quietly.

Shunsui’s inhale was so sharp that it almost scraped over Starrk’s ears. “I told you that you don’t have to give me anything you are not willing to.”

For the first time, Starrk heard the note of hesitation in the other man’s voice. 

He smiled, nudging those broad shoulders. When Shunsui lifted himself up with his hands, he pushed harder, reversing their positions until he was on top of the other man.

Shunsui was still looking at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Starrk leaned in, kissing him softly, his hand stroking the loosened strands of hair from root to tip. “I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I’m not willing,” he murmured.

Then, before Shunsui could protest even more, Starrk moved down his body. Fingers found the laces keeping the hakama on those strong hips, and he drew them out before biting on one, pulling it loose. He heard the hitch of breath, and grinned to himself as he tugged the cloth down.

Somehow, he wasn’t particularly surprised that Shunsui didn’t have any underwear beneath his hakama.

“Is this your way of repaying a debt?” Shunsui asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Starrk shook his head, nuzzling the side of one muscled thigh. “It isn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

The sharp edge in Shunsui’s voice had him looking up. He met Shunsui’s eyes, and smiled wryly. “Would you rather think that I am whoring myself out to you?” he drawled.

Shunsui narrowed his grey eyes. He sat up so suddenly that Starrk was dislodged from his position between his legs. Before he could react, Shunsui had his hands in his hair, pulling him close until their noses touched.

“Don’t _ever_ lower yourself to that again,” he said fiercely. “I would rather wait the rest of my life to have you than for you to do this just to repay whatever debt that you believe you owe me.”

Starrk closed his eyes, sighing. “That is why I am doing this willingly,” he said, brushing the back of his hands over Shunsui’s face. “Trust me.”

Shunsui’s eyes remained narrowed for long moments, seemingly searching for something within Starrk’s own grey-blue gaze. “Know that I want you, but only on your own terms,” he said finally.

“This is on my own terms,” Starrk confirmed.

He was subject once more to that piercing gaze before Shunsui sighed, nodding briefly. A soft kiss brushed over his forehead.

“Alright.”

Starrk smiled, lopsided, before he slid down Shunsui’s body again.

He closed his eyes as he opened his mouth, letting the physical evidence of Shunsui’s want for him to slide down his throat. His hands splayed on thick, slightly furred thighs, moving upwards, nails scraping over the thin skin at the joints. When Shunsui gasped, when his hips thrusted up, Starrk let himself be engulfed entirely by the sound and sensations.

Despite the confidence of his speech, he still wasn’t sure why he was doing this. It was just an irresistible urge, a desire that he couldn’t resist; he _wanted_ to give pleasure. But why? He couldn’t rid himself of the thought that he owed Shunsui something for all that the Captain had done for him, because surely his presence wasn’t enough. Surely there was something he could _do_ for him, something that would balance the scales between them.

And, at this very moment, he couldn’t think of anything else except to give pleasure in the most visceral and obvious way. The salt of Shunsui’s sweat, the bitterness of his pre-come, the tremulous sound of his gasp and bitten-off moans… they were all just enough to assure him that he was worth at least a little of all that Shunsui had given to him.

He wasn’t hard himself, but surely it couldn’t be a matter of repaying a debt because he wasn’t reminded of Aizen. No memories pressed at the back of his mind; no white rooms threatened to take over him entirely. There was only Shunsui’s warmth and the solidity of his fingers in Starrk’s hair.

It wasn’t just a matter of scales, he told himself. He _wanted_ to do this. But then again… had he wanted to give himself over to Aizen? He had never resisted, never used his power to stop the man who wanted to be god from taking all he wished from him. Perhaps he didn’t because he _couldn’t_ … and wasn’t that the greatest difference here? He knew, beyond all doubts, that he could stop at any time and Shunsui wouldn’t press him. He would be disappointed, and confused, but he wouldn’t force him.

Yet the thought of Shunsui’s disappointment was nearly as crushing a weight upon his lungs as Aizen’s.

His thoughts were tangling themselves into circles. Starrk squeezed his eyes shut, pulling his hand from Shunsui’s skin to dig nails into his palm. The pain was a sharp spike in his mind, bright stars that chase away the threads, and he forced himself to focus on Shunsui, on the pleasure he was giving the other man.

When Shunsui came, it was with a low, rattling moan that surrounded Starrk and seeped into his ears, twining around his spine and nerves and making him shake. It was engraved deep within, this sound, in the same place as the heavy, bittersweet rush of Shunsui’s come on his tongue.

He didn’t resist when Shunsui tugged him up to face him, but he didn’t open his eyes. He felt the weight of those eyes on him, felt the heat on Shunsui’s cheeks as the other man laid his head on his shoulder. And he didn’t flinch when Shunsui’s hand brushed over his crotch.

But he did when Shunsui’s entire body tensed.

“I’m sorry,” the Captain murmured. “I’m so very, very sorry.”

Starrk jerked, his eyes flying open despite himself. “Why?” he asked. His voice was hoarse. He swallowed hard. “You haven’t… you haven’t done anything you have to apologise for.”

Shunsui barked a laugh, something cold rasping from the depths of his throat. “I’m apologising for what I haven’t managed to do.”

There was nothing Starrk could say to that. He could only stare, uncomprehending, because Shunsui had done so much for him, so what was he…

The Captain smiled at him, sorrow bright in his eyes. “One day,” he whispered, his fingers stroking over Starrk’s cheek. “One day I’ll manage to convince you that everything that Aizen had said and done to you is wrong.”

“Ah.”

Starrk didn’t ask what he meant; he already knew. And he couldn’t help the instinctive shiver that went through his entire body at the thought that Shunsui was learning too; learning to pluck his thoughts right out of his mind.

Shunsui’s hand stroked his hair, and Starrk followed the gentle tug to lay his head onto shoulder.

“One day,” Shunsui repeated.

This was different too, Starrk realised. He felt safe. Maybe this was how it should be; just the feel of their bodies against each other, without wedge of scales and balances between them.

 _You’re already starting to_ , he almost said, but swallowed back the words and held on tighter instead.

Surely Shunsui knew that too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, I did say that it’ll take a long time to resolve trust issues, right? So…
> 
>  _Please don’t kill me_.


	19. Unfolding and Untangling, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orihime untangles Gin's thoughts. Lilynette unfolds truth within Starrk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Gin. That is all.

She was a vision with sunset hair and full curves. The sunlight streaming through the open window caressed the strands and set them to flames. He was almost surprised to notice that her clothes weren’t burning up.

Her pale hand tucked a strand of behind her ear. 

He stood there, watching her; her dark eyes were turned towards the window, looking outwards at something he couldn’t see. How selfish of her, he muses. She should share.

“What are you straining your little head about, Orihime-chan?”

The girl turned around. 

From behind, she resembled Rangiku so much that it had almost hurt to see her when he was in Las Noches. But whenever he saw her face, the illusion was broken – with those wide, innocent brown eyes, she was nothing like the woman he had given his heart to in childhood. 

His smile widened and lost its vague sincerity. The knot in his chest loosened.

“Ichimaru-sama—” she started, and shook her head hard. “Ichimaru-san. I didn’t see you there.”

What a telling slip of the tongue. 

“I didn’t think you did,” he said lightly. “You looked so busy thinking.”

Slowly, he took a step forward. He kept his smile steady and wide on his face when she tried to not flinch from him.

“You can tell me, you know,” he said. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

There was no one and nothing who would listen to whatever he said, after all. True, there was Rangiku, but even she took what he said with a grain of salt, the clever woman she was.

Orihime didn’t know him nearly so well. She stared at him with uncertain eyes, white teeth set deep into her full, pink lips. Gin wondered, vaguely, about the face that she would make if he kissed her right now. Not that he would, of course – she was Rangiku’s friend, and if she told her, then Ran-chan might cry, and hadn’t he spent his entire life trying his best to stop that from happening? – but it was a sudden thought, like lightning flashing across his mind.

Suddenly, she smiled.

It was such a sweet thing, a small curve of the lips, and so utterly unexpected that Gin found his own smile wavering for the briefest moment. She took a step forward, and folded her hands behind her back. She was, he thought briefly, leaving herself completely and utterly open for any attack he might make.

How very trusting. How very dangerous.

“I was thinking about how nice it is that people are happier now,” she giggled nervously. He couldn’t see them, but he was sure that her hands were fidgeting behind her back.

“You see, Ichimaru-san, Kuchiki-san told me about what happened to Muramasa,” she continued. “And I'm... I'm glad, because surely he's not sad anymore.”

The white flashes of teeth as she chewed on the corner of her lip was distracting. It took him a moment before what she said sank into his mind.

“You have to start from the beginning, Orihime-chan,” he said, steadying his smile. “I don’t know who Muramasa is.”

She blinked. “Oh. Um…” Even if she was too polite to voice it, he could still hear the unspoken question in her voice: _Did no one tell you about what had happened?_

No, Orihime-chan, Gin laughed to himself. No one did; no one _bothered_. Even though he was directly attacked by two of the zanpaktou spirits, he wasn’t trusted enough to be invited to the the council in which their leader was judged.

The taste of bitterness was heavy on his tongue, but Gin had long grown used to the weight. Months would do that to you.

(At night, he dreamt of that moment when he was attacked Aizen. Shinsou was sweet to him, always, transferring the feel of blade cutting through flesh and ribs and lung straight to his arm. There was pleasure, too, in the look in Aizen’s eyes, the mixture of surprise and rage that stripped the man of his godhood and turned him so startlingly _human_. 

He always tried to wake up after that moment, but his dreams never obeyed. His body knew too well the strike of Aizen’s sword, parting skin and muscle, nearly slicing his heart into two. His body knew, too, the feel of Unohana’s reiatsu sliding under his skin and making his nerves scream as she healed him. The texture of Rangiku’s hand was burned into his flesh along with the wetness of her tears as they fell onto his skin, like little droplets of warm rain.

When he woke, he would spend long minutes – sometimes hours – staring blankly at the emptiness of his hands. They were symbolic of the hollowness in his chest where Shinsou used to be; where his _power_ used to reside. And he would laugh, and laugh, and laugh until he was choking on it, because if he didn't...

If he didn't...)

Reaching out a hand, he sidled one step closer to Orihime. He cocked his head. “Why don’t you tell me the whole story from the very beginning?”

She moved backwards, an instinctive and purely human reaction when seeing a snake smiling, its forked tongue curling out of its mouth. Her arms tensed, and she backed away until she was once more at the window, half-turning to look out of it again.

And he couldn’t help but think that she had learned well in Las Noches; not once had she taken her eyes away from him.

“I don’t know the full story, because I wasn’t there for most of it,” she started hesitantly, her eyes constantly darting towards him. “But Kurosaki-kun and Kuchiki-san filled Ishida-kun and I on the whole story, and I don’t think anyone would mind if I tell you...”

And she did.

The story untangled like a mass of knots under nimble hands, the threads oiled and smooth. Gin almost laughed at the irony at so many points: the Shinigami, all fighting against their own swords, against parts of their own soul, because of the interference of someone who was clearly the card-carrying villain of the story; someone whose greatest power was in the way he twisted his words and made use of people's assumptions. 

It was almost enough for Gin to start wondering if Fate was running out of ideas. Or if their lives were scripted by an entirely unoriginal author.

But it wasn’t the same: the villain this time had a sorrowful tale of his own. His actions were said to be born out of desperation, and he was _believed._ Then he was picked up and held close and _forgiven,_ his slate wiped clean again. Despite all that he had done, the villain of the tale had his happy ending, while the villain's master – who had done absolutely nothing to cause the _current_ crisis, whose only crime was small-mindedness and power-hunger – was killed without much ceremony by a little girl.

Pain. Gin blinked. He looked down. Blood was starting to well up on his palm in half-moon marks.

Now that was odd. What had he to be angry about?

“I just think that it’s… really a wonderful thing,” Orihime was saying. She gave him a shy smile.

Gin blinked again. Now that was odd. He knew that he hadn’t missed a single word that she was saying despite his wandering thoughts, and yet he still had no idea what she was talking about; no idea what that smile was supposed to mean.

“Mm? What is, Orihime-chan?”

“Oh!” her hand flew to her mouth, and she gave him another nervous giggle. “I’m sorry, Ichimaru-san. I think my mind just went too quickly.”

She shook her head, and her eyes were bright and earnest on his. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? That people are being given second chances, and they are using them to help and heal those around them?”

There was a heat within him, a rage that had his blood skittering and boiling in his veins. His hand twitched at his side, and he stared into his eyes through heavy lids.

When he moved, it was almost too fast for his own mind to grasp. He only knew that, one moment, he was standing in front of her; the next, his hand was closed around her throat, pushing her against the windowsill. Her body was dangling half outside, her eyes wide and fearful, but Gin’s eyes were fixed upon the red blood being smeared on her porcelain skin. 

His blood, her skin.

“ _Second chances_ , mm?” he asked. The steady lilt of his own voice surprised himself. “Is that what you think it is, Orihime-chan?”

She didn’t reply. He didn’t expect her to, not with how tightly his hand was clenched around her throat.

“I wonder what kind of eyes you have, to see such prettiness in the ugly world,” he murmured, his other hand stroking down the side of her face. “If I rip them out, will you see how the world truly is like?”

Orihime was trembling under him. Gently, so very gently, he wiped away the tears trailing down her cheeks. 

“‘Second chances’ are just an illusion,” he leaned in, whispering into her ear. Her skin was warm; his breath was cold. “He was forgiven because he could be _used_.”

He chuckled, low and soft. “It’s the same for you and Ichigo-chan and the rest. You are _useful_ to the Soutaichou-sama,” mockery practically dripped from his lips at the title, “and so he allowed you to live instead of executing you like he should.”

She was slowly turning blue from the lack of air. Gin stared at her, head still cocked to the side. It would be interesting to see how she would look like in death, he knew, but at the same time… if she was dead, it would take far too long before he would know her reaction to what he said.

So he let her go, stepping back and folding his arms into his sleeves. His smile had not faltered, and did not falter even as she crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath, her hand trembling and butterfly-like on her throat. It was like music to his ears, the way she struggled to breathe, and Gin swept past her prone form to the window.

The leaves were a verdant green. There were budding blossoms, cherry and plum both, clinging onto the branches. Petals fell to the ground, littering the grass with light pinks and deep reds.

There was no beauty he could see.

“But…” Orihime was speaking, her voice tremulous and hoarse. “But what about you, Ichimaru-san?”

Slowly, he turned towards her. 

She was leaning heavily against the wall, using it to prop her weight up as she stood on shaky legs. He caught her gaze with his own, and she met it squarely, not even flinching away.

“You don’t have any power now,” she said, soft and halting. “But you’re still here, Ichimaru-san. You were still given a second chance.”

His eyes opened, the barest slit. He knew just how terrifying it is – had made sure that the small movement _was_ intimidating – but she still did not look at all afraid. And his hand was bleeding again. If he concentrated, he could practically hear the sound of blood dripping onto the concrete floor.

“Have I?” he murmured. 

Orihime finally averted her gaze, fidgeting with the collar of her shirt. It was stained with red, and her hand was starting to shake.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He cackled. “I really should take those pretty eyes of yours,” he mused. “So I can see what is in them which makes you look at the world this way.”

She flinched hard, her hands clenching in front of her. “What… what do you think about your situation then, Ichimaru-san?”

Gin stilled. What a question that was. No one had ever asked him that, not even Rangiku. They had simply _assumed_ that he accepted his punishment, given that he had made no escape attempts and that he hadn’t tried to kill himself. 

(For that, Gin would like to point them to the fact that they had made Rangiku his jailer, and doing either would make her cry, either out of anger or sorrow. He had already done it once, and he would rather not do it again.)

“I’m a trophy, Orihime-chan,” he told her, smile widening until his cheeks ached from the stretch of the muscles. “I’m the living proof of their _mercy_ and _fairness_.”

Gin’s ‘crimes’ were lesser than Aizen’s, and they couldn’t execute his false master. And thus, they did not kill him. He knew that perfectly well.

Orihime cocked her head at him, her lips pressed into a line. Then she stumbled forward, clearly weakened from his attempted strangulation, and took his hands into his own.

He was so shocked that he couldn’t move, not even when she whispered a quiet _Souten Kisshun_ and healed the open wounds on his palms.

“Even if you think that, Ichimaru-san, the fact that you’re still alive means that it _is_ a second chance,” she told him. Her gaze was searingly bright, scorching him deep into his soul. “Even if… even if they aren’t sincere about it, you’re still alive, and… and you can still change and become a better person.”

Gin cocked his head. “And why would I want that?”

Tugging on his hands, he tried to force her to let go. But her grip only tightened.

“You love Rangiku-san, Ichimaru-san,” Orihime said softly. Her eyes were wide and limpid and so very, very _earnest_. “If you love her, I’m sure you want to make her happy. And… and I think she will be happy if you become a better person. Or… or, well, if you just aren’t always sad and angry all the time.”

This time, Gin _did_ burst into laughter. This was familiar, far too familiar. He could almost see the autumn leaves; could almost feel the roughness of Starrk’s cheek against his hand. Was he really so transparent?

No, he didn’t think so. It was just that Fate liked to screw with him, to expose him to people like her; like him.

“I’m not joking, Ichimaru-san,” Orihime said. Was that a _pout_?

He shook his head hard, finally pulling away from her grasp and hiding his hands in his sleeves. They were starting to tremble. He told himself that it was simply because of the cold wind blowing in from the window; that it had nothing to do with how much she reminded him of Rangiku in looks, that it had nothing to do with how mercilessly Orihime had ripped apart his shields and defences to expose the parts of him that he kept away even from himself.

When he smiled, he knew just how strained it was at the edges.

“You’re asking me to be someone I’m not, Orihime-chan,” he said lightly. “That's so cruel of you.”

Orihime blinked at him before she shook her head hard. “I'm not asking you to become someone else,” she said. The conviction in her voice was stronger than steel itself. “Just... just for you to be... better. Happier.” 

She took a deep breath. “If… if _he_ can find humanity, then…”

“He? Who are you talking about?”

“Ulquiorra-san,” she said, her voice so soft that Gin, standing inches from her, could barely hear it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Orihime-chan,” he said.

Oh, Gin knew _exactly_ what she was trying to say. But he couldn’t help it; she had drawn away the veil covering that open wound, and he just had to pour salt upon it. How could he not?

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a breath hard through her nose. “Ulquoirra-san, he… before he died, he was already _changing_ ,” she said. Her throat fluttered with every word. “He said… he said that he was starting to understand humans, and I’m sure that… I’m sure that if he had the chance to live, if he hadn’t died, then he would’ve been someone _better_.”

Gin didn’t interrupt even though it was clear that she wanted so badly for him to say something.

“If…” she continued after a long pause, eyes still shut. “If Ulquiorra-san could understand, if he could overcome his Hollow nature to want to try to become someone human, then I’m sure that… I'm sure that you can become someone better too, Ichimaru-san.”

_But it’s different_ , he wanted to say. _He was falling for you, Orihime-chan. You never noticed, but the only reason why he was even beginning to understand humanity was because of what you make him feel just by your very existence._

He swallowed the words back. 

No, it wasn’t different at all. 

After all, if Ulquiorra had Orihime, then Gin had Rangiku. And he had even less excuse than Ulquiorra, for hadn’t he met Rangiku in his childhood while Ulquiorra had met Orihime when he should be long set in his ways?

Happier, she said. Was that even possible? There was no such thing in his world, built as it was upon burning hatred, its scaffolding formed out of a thousand lies and those aching, fading memories of Rangiku's smile. And now... now he was left with nothing but emptiness, a yawning void within his chest, a gaping wound caused by the tearing out of his power and his purpose.

He never did manage to get that part of Rangiku's soul back. He had worked all of his life for that specific goal, but now it was entirely out of his grasp, and he somehow still breathed even though he should by all rights be dead by now.

Gin was still breathing and Rangiku was still by his side, and he didn't know what to do with either of those facts. The void within him could never be filled, he thought, but... but was that what Ulquoiorra had thought as well? That there was nothing else but the emptiness, and he wanted there to _be_ nothing else?

Ulquoirra's hand was the last to go when he faded away. It had been reaching out towards Orihime, towards... towards the woman who had shoved her way into the void was was trying her best to mould herself into that form.

Gin wanted to laugh again, because this was such a damned _cliché_ : the beautiful woman who showed the flawed, fallen man how to become a better person. Perhaps Fate was a romance novelist. 

Still… Rangiku hadn’t smiled at him for a long time. Not sincerely anyway. 

Slowly, he started to smile again. It was the same as any of his others – a wide, insincere thing – but he felt something inside him _shift_ , and he wondered if Orihime could see it with those eyes of hers.

“Maybe,” he said.

Orihime cocked her head. “Maybe?”

He pushed himself away from the wall, starting to walk away. He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes.

“Maybe I’ll try.”

She smiled at him, brilliant and bright. Gin stopped in his tracks, looking at the sweetness and wondering just why he wasn’t poisoned by it. 

Oh, yes. He had almost forgotten.

“You should use your powers on your throat, you know,” he said. Grinning even wider, he tipped his head back until he caught her gaze.

“Bruises ain't fitting for that pretty skin of yours.”

“Don’t worry, Ichimaru-san,” Orihime chirped. “I will!”

He continued to watch her until he turned the corner. Then, once he was out of her sight, he leaned against the wall, his hands reaching up to rub hard at the corner of his eyes with his knuckles.

If he let Rangiku occupy his entire being like she had already with his heart, would it make her smile at him again? Would those faded memories gain new life and shine bright and true instead of being grey, half-forgotten things? 

Maybe he had been selfish. But then again, he always had been; but then again, was this not selfishness as well?

At the very least, it would alleviate his boredom.

(He didn't even try to fool himself into thinking that this was the only reason. Not when the memory of the first smile Rangiku had ever given him was hovering, colours leeched, at the back of his eyelids.

The problem of being a liar: you could never really lie to yourself, because you knew all the tricks too well.)

***

“It’s brighter here now.”

Slowly, Starrk opened his eyes. Lilynette stood in front of him, her new yukata – maroon printed with a series of orange and red leaves, colours perfect for autumn but strange for spring – shone in their shared inner world. He turned away from her, looking down and running his fingers through the grains of sand.

The shadows cast by each individual grain were still starker than his skin.

“I can’t see the difference,” he shrugged.

Lifting his eyes up, he looked at her. He didn’t realise it the last time he was here – there were too many distractions – but the darkness surrounding Lilynette seemed to be deeper. Her shadow, sprawled over the grey-yellow sands, seemed to seep deep into every grain, turning them completely black instead of a more faded grey.

Reaching forward, he brushed his hand over the darkness, as if trying to catch Lilynette’s shadow with his bare fingers. “Do you think we see this place differently?”

Lilynette snorted. She plopped down on the sand, right above her shadow, and Starrk had to move quickly so he wasn’t crushed by her.

“Maybe we do, maybe we don’t,” she shrugged carelessly. “But it’s something too stupid to talk about.”

“Why?”

“I can’t get into your head and see what you see anymore,” she pointed out. “And neither can you. So it all depends on what we _say_ , and you know better than I do the fuck ups that happen when it comes to words.”

Starrk laughed; he really did. Shifting, he felt the grains of sand slide over the cloth of his hakama as he moved closer to Lilynette. They leaned against each other, shoulder to shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her.

“Hey, Starrk,” Lilynette said after a moment. Her mask fragment brushed over his shoulder as she nudged him.

“Mm?”

“Are you here because there’s something you want to talk to me about without anyone else eavesdropping on our conversation?”

“Is that why _you_ are here?”

Lilynette fell silent. Starrk closed his eyes, rubbing his thumb on her arm as he waited her out. If she was taking such a long time to give him an answer that he already knew, then there surely was something that had bothering her for a long time.

“I’m worried,” she said, voice small.

That wasn’t what Starrk was expecting. He blinked, turning his head to meet her single red eye. “About what?”

“There’s someone I like a lot,” she said, biting her lip. “And… and I know that there’s someone you like a lot as well. I just… I can’t help but think…”

She jerked her head away.

“You can’t help but think…?” Starrk prompted, nudging her again.

“If we have other people we like, then we’ll spend all our time with them,” Lilynette said, the words spilling out of her so quickly that they were practically mashed together. “We’re already doing that. I’ve… I’ve been spending so much time with her, and you with him, and…”

She bit her lip. “I can’t help but think that we’ll fall apart eventually, the two of us,” she said, her voice dropping so soft that Starrk had to strain to hear her. “That we won’t be interested in each other anymore now that we have other people.”

Starrk looked at her. She was huddled into herself, arms wrapped around knees drawn to her chest. Her head was bowed, drooping hair hiding her bright eye, and Starrk’s non-existent heart ached at the sight.

Reaching out, he took her into both of his arms, enveloping her smaller form entirely into his own. He buried his face into her hair, hands splayed upon her back as he traced nonsensical shapes into it.

“Look around you, Lilynette,” he said quietly. “Look at this place.”

She didn’t move. But that was alright; he didn’t need her to.

“This is _ours_ ,” he murmured. “There is no one else who share their inner world with another like we do. There is no one else who can come here. No matter who else comes into our hearts, this is a place that is entire our own, and no one can take it away from us.”

“We have to share it with Masamune and Los Lobos,” Lilynette said petulantly.

“Mm,” Starrk admitted. “But they aren’t here now, are they?”

“They’re probably just hiding in some corner, just waiting for the best moment to pounce on us.”

“I don’t think so,” he shook his head. “I think we are the ones keeping them away, because we came here to talk to each other instead of them.” He didn’t say, _that’s not something anyone else can do, because there is no one else but their swords to speak with_. 

Lilynette already knew that.

Slowly, she lifted her head. She looked at him, still biting her lip, and Starrk knew, suddenly, that this was about something else, something far more serious that was bothering her than the fear of the two of them drifting apart because they had found others they cared about. She should already know that they would always stay together, that their connection to each other would never sever: no matter how many others surrounded them, they would always be each other’s first.

He used to be part of her, and he would always be part of her. Just like she would always be part of him.

So he knew that if he pushed her, she would only run away. So he knew that the only thing he could do now was to change the subject. 

Humming under his breath, he asked, “What is it about Rukia that you like so much?”

She blinked up at him, eye widening. Her lips parted. Then she closed her mouth with an audible _click_ before she smiled.

“I don’t know,” she told him, shoulders shaking a little as she laughed at herself and her own answer. “Or… well, I just can’t pin it down on one thing.”

“Mm,” Starrk nodded. “Is it because she likes you?”

Lilynette burst into a series of giggles, high-pitched and just a little hysterical. “I’m actually not sure about that,” she said, wriggling around until she was lying with her back to his chest. Starrk obligingly threw his arm over her shoulders. “She hasn’t told me that she did, but she didn’t refuse me either.”

Ah, he thought, a little dizzy. So it was _Lilynette_ who fell in love first; who realised her feelings first. He dug within himself, trying to find his surprise at the thought, but he only found the weight of wryness, as if he had expected nothing else.

That was… odd. But at the same time…

“Was there a single moment when you realised that you are falling for her?” he asked, trying his best to keep his voice casual.

But it seemed that Lilynette knew him far too well, because she grabbed the collar of his kosode, pulling him down until their eyes met.

“Is that what spring water told you?” she frowned. “That there was one moment in which he realised that he was falling for you?”

Starrk turned away. “That he fell for me,” he corrected.

“Hah,” Lilynette said, and there was such a wealth of emotion in that single word that Starrk couldn’t even begin to try to unravel it. “I guess… well… I guess there _was_ one.”

“Tell me about it?”

Lilynette tensed against him for a moment before she let out an explosive sigh.

“It was in winter,” she began. “That day was the first time I managed to convince her show me her sword properly. Not just the basic kendo forms but… the true power of her zanpaktou.”

Starrk opened his eyes, looking down at her. She was looking forward, staring into nothing, her hands slowly rising.

“I heard from Yachiru that Rukia’s sword was the most beautiful in Soul Society, but… but I couldn’t help but think that everyone else was looking at the wrong thing.” Her shoulders shook again. “Starrk, you had to be there. She was wearing black, and her hair looked like… like fresh ink underneath the sunlight. Her sword was white, she was surrounded by ice and snow, and she… she looked like she was _dancing_ as she went through the forms.”

She took a deep breath. Her hands trembled. “Can you imagine it, Starrk? The way that Rukia’s feet skipped through the snow, barely leaving any prints. The way she _looked_ , all dark hair and pale skin, so striking against all the white. And her eyes… her eyes are so blue, so determined, and she looked as if dancing with her sword was the greatest pleasure she could ever have.”

Tipping her head back, Lilynette met Starrk’s eyes, giving him a crooked smile. The look in her eye made her almost entirely unrecognisable.

“I could watch her like that forever,” she said.

Starrk’s hand tightened on her shoulders. His head dropped on top of hers. When he breathed, the air felt like it was cutting through the skin of his throat. 

“I want more, you know,” Lilynette continued, her hand finding his and winding their fingers together. “I want to protect her and stand beside her and make sure that she is never, ever hurt. I want to touch her and dance with her and so many things. But… but, Starrk, you know, if she refuses me, I think I’ll be happy if I can just watch her dance with her sword once in a while.”

He shifted his fingers a little, clenching them around clothes instead of flesh, letting his nails dig into his own palms. 

“Did spring water tell you something like that?”

The only answer he could give was a deep, hoarse sob. This was the answer he sought. It was so simple that his mind was spinning in circles; so very, very simple.

When he trusted himself to be able to speak again, he said, “Something like that.”

“Mm,” Lilynette said. “I thought so.”

Starrk’s head jerked up. He blinked, eyes widening as he stared at the girl who was the other half of him.

“What do you mean?”

She turned around, knees sinking into sand as she faced him. “I’ve been watching the two of you,” she said, matter-of-fact. “I’ve noticed that… he does things for you without even thinking about it. And, you know, the way he looks at you… I think it’ll be the same way that I look at Rukia.”

Shrugging, she looked away. “Or, at least, I _think_ it’s the way I look at Rukia. I haven’t checked a mirror yet.”

There was, Starrk realised, a note of falseness in her words. Pieces were falling together – that strange look in her eye, the hesitation in the beginning of their conversation, the way Lilynette looked at him sometimes when they were in Las Noches and he had just returned from meeting Aizen… so many things.

“You’re lying to me,” he blurted out.

“I’m not!” Lilynette said, her eye burning fiercely as she looked back at him. “I really have been watching the two of you!”

“No,” Starrk shook his head. “Not about that.” He bit his lip, scrambling for words. “It’s… it’s not that you’re lying to me. You… you’re _hiding_ something from me.”

_Again_. The word hovered in the air between the two of them, thick and heavy enough to choke.

Lilynette closed her eyes. Her entire body tensed, and Starrk instinctively tightened his grip on her. 

He ignored the thoughts screaming in his head about Shunsui and Aizen; ignored the revelation he had just came to about the difference between the two of them. Knots were rapidly untangling, falling into a mass that were rapidly being woven back into a full tapestry again. But he ignored them all. 

This was Lilynette, and she was more important than anything – any _one_ – else. And he wasn’t going to let her run away from this; not this time.

Not ever again.

“You are more whole than I am, and yet more Hollow at the same time,” he said, forcing the words past a closed throat. “You know things that I don’t. Even back in Las Noches, you were the one who kept feeling that what Aizen did was wrong. I never… I never understood, but you did, if only a little.”

Starrk never knew what it meant to be Primera. It was Lilynette who helped him fill in the gaps; who told him that it was a form of trust and faith. And though… though that was wrong, it was still more than Starrk had ever known.

So how did Lilynette know? How did she _always_ know?

When that red eye blinked open, it was filled with a maelstrom of emotions that whipped Starrk’s breath from his lungs. She looked so _old_ , so much older than her twelve-year-old body, older than even her released form.

“What did you actually come here for?”

She smiled at him, soft and sad, before her head dropped onto his shoulder.

“Promise me, Starrk,” she said. “Promise me that nothing will ever tear apart this place that belongs to the two of us.”

Starrk wrapped his arms around her, eyes staring into nothing. Could he promise that? She had hidden so much from him, and he could not help but think of Aizen again, about all the half-truths he had been told that had left such deep scars within his soul.

But this was Lilynette. And no matter what, she was still the other half of his soul. She was still the very first person whom he knew; still the same person who had kept him safe inside her soul collection until her loneliness had consumed her.

He closed his eyes. “I promise,” he said.

Lilynette shook in his arms. At the moment, despite all that he had seen, she felt more like a young girl than ever.

“Rukia was right when she said that you will figure it out.”

Rukia? What had Rukia had to do with… but Starrk’s train of thought screeched to a complete stop when Lilynette spoke again.

“Your name was Randal. And mine was Lilian.”

Starrk froze. When Lilynette pulled back, he could do nothing but stare into her eyes, into that sorrowful, knowing gaze.

“You were my brother, and you protected me for my entire life. You protect me so much that you died because of it.”

She laughed again, the same hysterical giggle.

“All I wanted to do after I died was to return the favour.”

Her fingers were cold against his cheeks.

“But I’m not nearly as good at that as you are,” she whispered. “I was too selfish. I didn’t want you to know to protect you, so I forced myself to forget. And I did, I really did, but by the time I started to remember, it was already too late… I had made myself helpless, and you were in the habit of protecting me again.”

Finally, Starrk managed to find his voice.

“I don’t understand,” he croaked out. His hands found hers, pulling them away from his face, and he tried not to flinch at the sight of the hurt in her eyes.

“Tell me everything,” he breathed out. “From the beginning of what you remember. Tell me everything.”

She looked at him for agonisingly long moments; moments when he wanted to take those words back because the sorrow and hurt in her gaze was almost too much to bear. But he had to know; he had to understand.

He had to remember.

Eventually, she nodded, pulling away from him to sit down on the sands. Looking away from her, Starrk realised that the shadows she cast was lightening now, turning into a dark, brackish grey like his own.

“I don’t know how old I am,” she began, staring at her hands. “I don’t know how old _we_ are.”

As she talked, something stirred deep within Starrk. Memories unfolded like an origami piece, revealing the secrets written on the paper that he finally found the key to decode.

_Once, there was a town. It used to been green and filled with fields, and though lives were hard, people were happy. But then the machines came, and they leeched all colour from the place with their great, billowing black clouds that emitted from chimneys. The smoke stole smiles from people’s lips, dulled their eyes, and drained all emotion from their faces except for anger and hunger and desperation._

_There was a man who lived in that town. He worked as a tailor and, during the harvest season, as a farmhand. He had a wife, a quiet baker’s daughter, and five children, two boys and three girls. He wasn’t happy, really, but he was content, because he earned enough money to feed his family, and that was all a man could ask for in the times he lived in._

_The machines took his livelihoods and his pride. He had contentment. Then he had nothing. Then he turned angry – at the machines, at the world, but he could not harm either. His eyes scoured all around him for something he could blame, and landed on his youngest daughter._

_She was a strange child, born with white hair and red eyes even though both he and his wife had brown hair and grey eyes. He had once thought his wife had cheated on him, slept with some exotic-looking outsider, but he had never seen such a person. No human had colouring like his daughter, and so he decided one day that she was in fact no child of a human at all; that she was a demon’s child, and all that was stolen from him was her fault._

_Her very existence, he decided, was a curse._

_So one day, after some liquid courage, he decided that he would kill her. Then all of his bad luck would vanish, and his good fortunes returned._

_The man would have succeeded if not for his oldest son. That boy was a strange one too; quiet and gentle, more like the man’s wife than the man himself. He leapt into the way of the man’s fists as they rained down on the little girl, and shielded her with his own body. The man decided then that the boy was a demon’s child too, for no son of his would defend a demon._

_This is the end of the man’s story. His son killed him with a pair of tailor’s scissors, the tool of his once-trade._

_Once, there was a boy. He was covered in blood, the scent of metal thick in his nose, and he didn’t know if the red belonged to his sister or his father. He carried his sister in his arms as he ran and ran and ran, far away from his home, leaving everything he had ever known behind him. Somehow, he managed to find himself at the train tracks, staring at steel and wood and the approaching clouds of smoke._

_He looked at the train as it came towards him, and wanted, in that moment, to stand in front of it and let himself die. But his sister made a sound, so he swung himself up instead, tumbling into a carriage. He landed upon sacks of cotton, the yellow-white tufts surrounding him, and he held his sister close and cried until the blood on his face turned pink._

_The city they found themselves in was same-different as the town they had left. The buildings were taller; but they were still grey. The river was wider; but it was grey-brown and stank with no fish swimming in the water. The clouds of smoke were still there; but they were bigger, heavier, choking every single breath they tried to take in. The people were still desperate and hungry; but there was anger there, a dull-bladed thing that drew shadows underneath drawn faces instead of bringing it light._

_The boy hated the city, but there was nowhere else he and his sister could go. In this crowded place, no one could find him. In this stench of urine and blood and grief and smoke, no one could smell the blood still lingering on his skin._

_But he could. And so the boy decided to surround himself with smoke, in hopes that the fire would one day scorch the iron and copper completely from his skin. He found a job as a chimney-sweep – one of the things machines could yet manage to do – and though it was difficult for him as he was too old to climb up many of the narrow chutes, he managed to scrape enough money for food and a place to live. It was small, their home; a tiny room barely bigger than the outhouse they had back in the town, crowded with five or six others, but it was a roof over their heads and it was better than the days they had lived underneath the bridge over the great river._

_So they spent years like this in the city. The smoke never did manage to scorch the blood from his skin; it lingered constantly in his nose, heavy in his mouth. The only respite he had from the blood was when his sister, the sweet girl, had placed her small hands on his face and giggled at the sight of the soot and filth covering him. She never recovered from the beating that their father gave her: one eye was gone, filmy-white, while the other stared at him with a childlike sweetness and innocence that had not changed no matter how much time whipped through their bodies._

_There was no money for doctors, but the boy didn’t think they would be able to heal his sister anyway._

_He held her throughout the long nights. In the winters, he tried to convince himself that it was to give her warmth; but that excuse worked poorly for the sweltering summers of the city. He knew, deep down, that he held her for she was the only thing he had left in the world; the only thing worth protecting in this dark, grey, and rotten world of theirs._

_The taste of blood came to him stronger than ever in his eighteenth year. His jobs were getting fewer and fewer then – he was far too big to climb up most chimneys – and there was a part of him, selfish and so very, very tired, that was glad when he saw blood in his hand every time he coughed._

_When he died, his only regret was that he couldn’t take care of his sister; that he no longer could keep away the monsters that always came for them both._

_There were monsters; there always had been. This tale had shied away from them because the boy always tried his best to forget about them, to deny that the monsters existed. But they awlays were there – roaring animalistic things, wearing bone-white masks; creatures that none but the boy and his sister could see. The monsters dogged their steps, following them from the town to the city, always roaring and screaming in pain and sorrow and desperate, aching hunger._

_They were not much different from the people who walked on the city’s streets._

_The boy pitied them though his heart should be too scarred and filled with his own sorrows for pity; though he should hate them for they were part of what drove his father to madness._

_The monsters did not always look monstrous; there were some in the shape of men. They wore strange black robes with swords on their hips. The boy’s sister asked why the human-like monsters always fought the monster-like monsters, and the boy told her gently that perhaps there was a war between them._

_It seemed like a war: both monstrous things went after the ghosts, the human souls that escaped whenever someone died. The boy saw it so many times – there had always been death around him – and the human-like monsters used the hilt of their swords to eat the ghosts, while the monster-like monsters literally ate them, swallowing them whole._

_He tried to keep his sister safe from the monsters. He learned to fight; he learned to hide. He thrived in the satisfaction it gave him, for it was easier than keeping her safe from the city, from the humans everyone could see but who were monstrous too._

_Once, there was a girl. She loved her brother wih the simplicity of a child, for he was the one constant in her world. She thought that they would always be together; that he would always be with her, protecting her. And she was right – but, one day, her brother doubled. There was him, lying so still on the bed; and there was him, standing by the side, looking at himself and at her with a look on his face that she had always hated._

_Death was not something she could understand. How could she, when her brother told her that he was gone – dead – while he was still standing there? So she did not understand, and she cried and cried, begging her brother over and over, but he no longer had any ability to give her the food that would ease the ache in her stomach, the ache that grew larger and larger until it consumed her entirely._

_One day, the girl woke up and saw herself lying there on the ground. It was a strange sight. Were her stomach always so bloated, and her cheeks so thin? She knelt beside her other self, poking at the ribs showing beneath the pale skin, so starkly white beneath the pale, grey light of the city._

_Her brother was still standing next to her, with that same look on his face. Except that, this time, it was worse._

_Except that, this time, she understood what it meant. She understood_ everything _._

_Her brother had done so much for her, she knew now. And it was then that she swore, with all the vehemence of a child, she would do everything she could for him._

_Not out of a debt she owed, but for the love she held for him, burning bright inside._

Lilynette finally stopped talking. She buried her face in Starrk’s shoulders, her entire body trembling like a leaf. Starrk wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight even as he shook himself.

“I think…” he said finally, swiping his tongue over his dry, dry lips. “I think I understand why you didn’t tell me any of this before.”

He tilted her head up, meeting that single red eye brimming with tears. His finger brushed over the eyepatch, and he knew now precisely why her mask fragment had taken this form.

“Still, I wish you had told me earlier,” he murmured. “Because this is such a heavy burden to carry alone.”

Shaking her head hard, Lilynette bit her lip. “It isn’t heavy at all,” she said, voice small.

Starrk only looked at her, not even bothering to raise an eyebrow. He knew that was a lie; she was still shaking too hard in his arms for it to be anything else.

She looked away. “Would it make you feel better if I tell you that I haven’t carried it for long?” she asked. “I didn’t remember everything until…”

“Until?”

“Until…” she rubbed the back of her neck. “Until that time when we joined together and split apart again.”

_Oh_. 

Starrk almost laughed. It seemed that that one gamble he made when he saw Aizen attacking Harribel had far, far more consequences than he first thought. He swallowed, shaking his head to dismiss the lingering thoughts about just _what_ those consequences had been.

“So much time has passed since then,” he said softly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lilynette slumped. Her sigh wafted over his collarbone.

“I promised myself to protect you,” she said. “And I… I didn’t manage to do it. I made you protect me again. So I thought that maybe… just maybe… keeping this from you is a way of protecting you too. Then you don’t have to be burdened with… with, well, all of this.”

This time, Starrk _did_ give in to his laughter. No matter how much Lilynette remembered, no matter how much she kept from him, it seemed that she was still a child.

“You should know better than that,” he chided gently. “Keeping secrets isn’t really a way of protecting someone. A cat will tear its way out of the bag eventually.”

He blinked. “I have no idea why I just said that.”

“It’s a saying,” Lilynette said carelessly. Then she jerked, narrowing her eye at him. “Starrk, are you _remembering_?”

It was such a temptation to say no, to give her a taste of her own medicine. But the urge disappeared almost immediately, and he gave her a lopsided smile instead.

“The town we were born in was called Manchester,” he said, tipping his head up. The skies here looked brighter now, as if Lilynette’s truths had cleared away the grey clouds and allowed the bright sun to burst through. “Our father’s name was James, and our mother’s was Mathilda. When our father lost his job, our mother supported us by working in a cotton mill for a while. She lost her job because I went to look for her when you were two years old or so, and the Hollows followed me and destroyed the mill.”

He sighed. “You always had a habit of talking to ghosts as if they were real. Your first word was the ‘grandmama’, even though she died before you were born. And the both of us… we knew things that no one else did; things that the ghosts told us. Our parents never understood.”

“And that’s why Father tried to kill me,” Lilynette said flatly.

“I don’t blame him for it, you know,” he said quietly. “I never did.”

It was hard to blame a man for what he did when you were haunted by the smell of his blood on your hands for the rest of your life.

Lilynette huffed, rolling her eye. “You know, when we become Hollows, we’re supposed to change. Become meaner or something. But you never did.”

“How did that happen anyway?”

“How did _what_ happen?”

“How did we become Hollows?”

There was a suddenly sheepish look on Lilynette’s face. She rubbed the back of her neck, ducking her head down. 

“I ate you,” she said finally, voice so soft that Starrk could barely hear her.

He blinked. “… What?”

She looked up at him, lips white with anger. “I ate you, okay?” she burst out. “The Shinigami were coming for you and I didn’t want them to, and I noticed that Hollows were made when chains grew shorter, so I yanked mine out and became a Hollow and _ate_ you because I didn’t want you to be taken by a Hollow! I thought I was keeping you safe!”

Starrk couldn’t help it. He blinked again. “That’s…”

“I _know_ it’s stupid,” Lilynette continued, pulling away from him to huddle into a ball a distance away. 

“Lilynette,” Starrk tried, but she steamrolled over him, ranting.

“I know it’s because I’m dumb that we became Hollows; that we grew so powerful, that we were lonely; that we met Aizen… I know, okay? I know that everything bad that happened to us is my fault.”

She was starting to cry, and Starrk had enough. He reached out, grabbing her by the collar of her yukata and pulling her back, shoving her face forcefully against his chest.

“Shut up,” he whispered fiercely. “It’s not your fault.”

“But,” she tried to say, but he pressed her even closer, forcefully silencing her.

“Our power isn’t your fault. It’s not just you who had reiatsu. We both did. The Hollows came for _both_ of us.”

He took a ragged breath. “The reason why we were even in London was because _I_ killed our father,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut to try to not remember the smell of blood on his hands. Why was it that, no matter which world he lived in, he always had to kill even though it was what he hated most in the world?

“If we get down to it,” he pressed onward, “the reason why you were afraid of the Shinigami was because I was, because I never spoke to them or tried to understand what they were doing. Everything you knew was what I told you, so how could you know? So if we’re pushing blame, it’s _my_ fault.”

“It’s not your fault!” Lilynette protested immediately, yanking him down by his hair. “Don’t take all the blame for yourself!”

“Take your own advice,” Starrk shot back, lips twitching.

She stared at him for a long moment before she laughed. The sound was something too old for him, entirely unfitting the innocent, childlike girl Starrk remembered from both the Living World. 

“How about,” she said, “we agree that it’s fate’s fault, because it’s obvious that she likes fucking around with us.”

Starrk leaned down, laughing into her hair. Lilynette had grown up somewhere in between her death and the time when they stopped being one and became two again. And Starrk had missed all of it.

“Mm,” he said. “That’s fine with me.”

She thumped him on the shoulder. “So let go already. I can’t breathe.”

“You don’t need to,” Starrk said, not letting go.

“You’re crushing my ribs.”

“You’ll survive.”

The huff of her laugh skimmed over his collarbone, and she wrapped her arms around his chest, resting her head on a shoulder.

“I’m so glad that you’re not mad at me,” she murmured.

He closed his eyes, stroking his fingers through her hair. “You should know better than that,” he said. “I will never be angry at you.”

Not for long anyway.

She smacked him again. “You mean that you will never be angry at _anyone_ ,” she corrected, sounding both amused and resigned at the same time.

There was no way he could deny that, so he just nodded. “Mm, that’s true too.”

They stayed like that in silence, watching the sands of their inner world be whirred up into tiny storms by the dry wind that whipped through their hair and snuck beneath their clothes to skitter across their skins.

His mind turned towards Shunsui, about what he would think about all this; if he had any stories of Hollows who remembered their pasts. If he knew anything about the town and city that Starrk and Lilynette had lived in while they were still living souls.

“You’re thinking about spring water, aren’t you,” Lilynette stated.

“Mm,” he nodded it. There was no point in denying it.

Lilynette sighed. She untangled herself from him, her hands closing around his arms before she looked at him, red eye half-lidded.

“You did come here to talk to me about him,” she said. “So talk.”

Instinctively, he wanted to say no. He wanted to tell her that there was nothing for them to talk about and he could handle this on his own. But he knew that would be a lie, and he would be hiding things from her.

They had hid enough from each other for long enough.

“Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is half of one chapter. The next half will come next week, as usual. (Sorry!)
> 
> Tell me what you think about the backstory I created for Starrk and Lilynette?


	20. Unfolding and Untangling, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia abuses some sense into Ichigo’s head. Ukitake does spring cleaning on Shunsui's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the radio silence on this end. I left the country for a week. I thought I would have time to post the chapter – hence the lack of warning – but I didn’t. I’m really sorry. I _will_ be on time for next week, which means the next chapter is in two days.

The seasons were the same between Soul Society and the Living World. In that small way, there was no difference between the world of the living and that of the dead. 

Sitting on the rooftop of Karakura Clinic, swinging his legs, Ichigo let himself think about why it was that way. Was it because Soul Society instinctively mirrored itself to the Living World because of the influence of the souls who remembered there being different seasons? Or was it the other way around, with some sort of leakage from Soul Society influencing the seasons?

His science classes said that the seasons changed because of the interaction between Earth’s atmosphere and its journey around the sun. That would make sense with Soul Society and the Living World, but there was Hueco Mundo too, and the moon there had never set, so what was up with _that_ then?

He was deep in thought about how human science could untangle all the mysteries about the spiritual worlds the majority of humans didn’t even know existed when he was kicked in the face.

No, that wasn’t metaphorical. There _really_ was suddenly a foot right in his face. He flailed, arms windmilling, and nearly fell off the roof.

“What the hell!”

“You look like you were thinking,” a lofty voice answered him. “If you do it too much, you’re going to break your brain.”

Clinging onto the edge of the rooftop, Ichigo narrowed his eyes, glaring at the small girl standing with her hands on her hips. He hoisted himself back uipwards, landing on his feet. Immediately, he drove his elbow on top of her head.

“Why can’t you say ‘hello’ like a normal person?” he whisper-shouted, trying to keep his voice down in case he woke the girls. Or worse, his old man.

Rukia punched his jaw. He stumbled backwards, this time managing to catch himself before he tumbled off the roof again. 

“You don’t say ‘hello’ like a normal person either,” she pointed out.

They glared at each other for a long moment before Ichigo sighed. There was no way he could win this argument, especially when he wasn’t even sure _what_ they were arguing about in the first place. He rubbed his face before dropping back down to sit on the rooftop’s edge.

It took Rukia less than five seconds to sit down next to him.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“Visiting,” she said, giving him non-answers like she always did. The only exception to this rule was when she decided to provide atrocious pictures of rabbits to accompany her answers.

He rolled his eyes. “You have a reason for visiting? Or are you just here to bother me?”

Rukia shrugged, her shoulder bumping against his.

“What were you thinking about, Ichigo?”

“The reason why the seasons in Soul Society correspond to those here while Hueco Mundo stays an eternal desert,” he replied promptly.

She punched him in the face. Again.

“Okay,” she said while he was still holding his nose, trying to make sure that it wasn’t broken, “what were you trying to _not_ think about that you’re trying to figure out something so stupid?”

“What makes you think that I was trying to not think about anything?” he grumbled.

Rukia only gave him a withering look. Ichigo tried to glare at her, but she upped the wattage of the look until he was sure that he would actually start growing old. So he sighed, dropping his head between his knees. He tried to convince himself that he wasn't trying to avoid her eyes.

“I really screwed up, didn’t I?” he said softly. “With Muramasa.”

He was just going to leave it there, but Rukia nudged him at the side with a foot. “Keep talking,” she ordered.

Shooting her a dirty look, which she returned with an unimpressed one, he sighed again. “He attacked you and sent Sode no Shirayuki after you just to get me into Soul Society. Then he was telling me that he... found me interesting,” he hid a grimace at that particular memory, “and I forced my Hollow out and fought him...”

Hesitating, he looked at Rukia again. She tapped her fingers on her knee empathetically.

“I don't know why this is bothering me so much,” he said. “It's just... I didn't do anything to _help_. Actually, all I did was to make him target you. I even helped him to free Kouga and I didn't even... I didn't even defeat him to make up for that.”

“Ichigo.”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

It was most likely a trap, but Ichigo lifted his head up and turned towards her anyway.

She clocked him right across the face.

“Ow! What--”

Rukia grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close. Her eyes were narrowed, lips pressed into a line, and he stared at him, completely uncomprehending, as she fumed in silence at him.

“Why the hell are you angry?” he growled. If she found something objectionable about what he said, then she shouldn't have even asked him about it in the first place!

“You,” she said slowly, dragging every word through gritted teeth, “are a complete, utter _idiot_.”

That wasn't the first time Rukia had called him that. But it _was_ the first time she looked at him like this, with frustration and exasperation wrapped up around a hard, burning core of anger.

“You don't have to repay _anything_ to _anyone_ for falling to their manipulations,” she said in the same slow, weighted voice. “If you want to repay anyone, beating in someone's head isn't the way to do it. It's by getting _smarter_ and making sure that you don't get caught in the same trap again.”

Ichigo opened his mouth, but Rukia shook his collar hard, making the cloth smack against his neck. He shut up.

“Listen,” she continued. “It's not your job to take out Muramasa. It's not your job to get rid of all the threats that come to Soul Society.”

“I don't think that it's my job!” he protested immediately. His hands closed around hers, trying to make her let him go. “It's just that...”

“You think it's your duty,” Rukia interrupted, practically steam-rolling over him. “You think that it's always up to you to save those around you, never mind what they are capable of. You think that you're the only person who should make sacrifices, who should get hurt. You want to wrap up every single person in bubble wrap to make sure that they are never hurt by _anything_.”

He opened his mouth again. Her words wormed into him, tugging at the threads that made up the tapestry of his being, threatening to unravel him entirely.

She glared at him again. He closed it. It should be silly for him to fear what a girl half his size could do, but he learned long ago to not underestimate her. Or her punches.

When she spoke again, her voice was soft and almost strange in its gentleness.

“Why do you think it's always up to you, Ichigo?”

Once Rukia let go, Ichigo sank down back to the concrete ground. He looked away from her Sinking down back onto the concrete ground, he tipped his head back and stared at the skies lit up by streetlights.

“I don't know,” he said. It was perfectly honest; he really didn't.

Her fist nudged his temple. It was such a light touch that he nearly fell off the roof again.

“Use that head of yours to try to figure it out,” she sighed. “If you can figure out Aizen during that battle with him, then you can do it for yourself too.”

Ichigo wanted to protest; wanted to tell her that he had never been much for self-reflection. He had always followed his instincts.

But following his instincts had essentially led him to aid the enemy. Not just with Muramasa, but with Aizen as well. 

He rubbed his face hard. Then he dragged his hand through his hair.

The first thought he had was his mother. He lost her because he couldn't protect her, because she was trying to protect _him_ , and Ichigo had read enough beginner's psychology to think that having to deal with something that traumatic when he was so young was enough to create some kind of psychosis in his head.

But he knew it wasn't true. Not really. If it was, then he would have never allowed Chad or Tatsuki to fight beside him. Or Rukia, for the matter. No, that was only the beginning; it was something _else_ that made him this way.

What was it? What _was_ it? Ichigo dug his fingers into his hair, messing it up even further in his frustration.

“My head hurts,” he complained.

“That's what happens when you don't use it often,” Rukia shot back. “Keep thinking.”

He gave her a half-hearted glare. Which she ignored completely. Typical.

There was something prodding at the back of his mind. He tried to grab at it, but it skittered away from him like words always did when he wasn't in the midst of a battle. Swallowing another sigh, he dropped his head onto his knees. 

Then he disconnected his brain from his mouth, and hooked the latter to his instincts instead.

“I guess...” he started. “I guess it's because I think everyone were waiting for me to take out Aizen on my own.”

Rukia's eyes widened, but she didn't say a word. Ichigo was simultaneously angry and relieved by that: he _wanted_ to be stopped, because he knew that if he continued, neither of them would like the answers he would give.

He took a deep breath and let all the words just tumble out of his mouth without knowing what he himself was going to say. 

“But it started long before that, from the very beginning when you were first taken back by Byakuya and Renji. You see, sometimes I wondered... why is it that Geta-boushi and Yoruichi-san bothered to train me- train _us_? Why couldn't they just go to Soul Society and save you, given how powerful they are? Don't get me wrong, I _wanted_ to be the one who saves you, but... but Rukia, I can't help but wonder, you know?”

She nodded.

“Then afterwards, in Soul Society... everyone else just kept _losing_. They were _captured_. I was the only one left free, and I had to save them as well as you. Then Renji begged me to save you and I... I guess I just started to think that it's up to _me_ , you know? That no one else could do it. Especially when I met you and you basically told me that you weren't even going to try to save yourself.”

Rukia was going to say something, but Ichigo shook his head up, forestalling her.

“Let me finish,” he said. When she nodded slowly, he took a deep breath.

“There are other things too. Like when Grimmjow came and beat the shit out of everyone. Like when Inoue disappeared and jii-san refused to let us go and rescue her. Like when I was the one who reached Inoue first and fought Ulquiorra,” he fought down a shiver at the thought, because he still had nightmares about letting go so completely and utterly. 

In a softer voice, he continued, “Like when I had to _watch_ while everyone was taken down by Aizen until... until I was the only one left to defeat him.”

He rubbed his face hard, digging knuckles into his eyes. “After... after the battle, you know what Zangetsu-ossan told me? He said that... he said that he was really glad that Aizen didn't manage to break out of the Chrysalis stage; that Starrk's attack stunted his further evolution.” 

Geta-boushi had said something about Starrk having absorbed so much reiatsu from Aizen that the Hogyouku was too busy replenishing it to push his evolution further, especially since the combined attack from the Shinigami took so long for Aizen to counter when he didn't have Kyouka Suigetsu. Ichigo wasn't sure of the details; he hadn't listened to much of it.

Dropping his head back, he stared blankly upwards. “There is only one technique that could've defeated Aizen if he had evolved further. It's called Mugetsu and... and Zangetsu-ossan told me that... that I would have to meld with him and the Hollow both to be able to use it. And... if I use Mugetsu, I would lose all of my powers.”

Turning his head, Ichigo gave Rukia a soft, wry smile. “I was willing to do it, you know.” __

_Because no one else could've taken him down by then_. __

__He knew Rukia had heard those words he left unspoken; could see it in the shocked understanding in her eyes. But he didn't regret thinking them; wouldn't have regret _doing_ so because then he would have been protecting his precious people from a man who, despite his appearance, was more like a monster under the bed than any Hollow Ichigo had ever met. Even his own. _  
_  
“If you've done that...” Rukia said, dipping her head until her hair covered her eyes. “What would happen to us, then?” __

__“Weren't you just saying that you all can do without me?” Ichigo asked, trying for humour. “You would've done fine.” __

__Rukia shook her head hard. “That's not what I meant,” she said. Her eyes were fierce when they finally met his, and Ichigo didn't stop her when she grabbed his collar and pulled him close. __

__“Do you know what it would've done to all of us if we _lost you_?” __

__“You wouldn't have lost me!” Ichigo protested immediately. “I wouldn't have _died_.” __

__“No, you wouldn't,” Rukia agreed. She stared at him for a moment longer before dropping her hands. “But Ichigo... if you've done that, we couldn't sit here to talk to each other. __

__“Because you wouldn't be able to see me anymore.”

_Huh?_ Ichigo blinked. “I don't get it.” __

__This time, Rukia's punch floored him entirely. One second, he was sitting on the rooftop's edge; the other, he was lying on his back, half-hanging over the side, staring up blankly at the tiny girl who packed a hell of a punch.

“Rukia, what the hell--”

“You _idiot_!” she hissed, straddling his chest as she half-strangled him with her hands tight on his collar. “Friends don't just protect each other from harm. Friends talk to each other, laugh with each other, and they can _see_ each other!”

Ichigo opened his mouth to tell her he knew that, and could she stop abusing him already? But Rukia glared at him, smacking his head against the ground.

“Look,” Rukia said. “Do you ever think me, or Inoue, or Chad, or Renji, to be less of a friend because we _don't_ constantly protect you from some big bad villain?”

He stared at her, uncomprehending.

“Answer me!”

“What--?” he flailed. “No! Of course not!”

“Then why do you think that you _have_ to always be the one to protect us? Why don't you talk to us, ask us for help?”

“Because that would put you in danger!” Ichigo yelled, uncaring about waking up his family or, hell, the entire neighbourhood. “Because you're my friends and I'd rather be the one hurt than be the one watching you _be_ hurt!”

“Do you think you're not our friend as well?” Rukia screamed back. “Do you think we _like_ sitting back and just watching you get hurt over and over again without being able to do anything? Do you think we'll like knowing that you lost your powers _because we couldn't protect you_?!”

Ichigo froze.

“That's not...” he started, eyes wide. “That's not... I don't...”

“If you say that you don't need to be protected,” Rukia hissed, “I _will_ punch you into a coma.”

He clicked his jaw shut.

They stared at each other for long minutes. The only sounds between them were that of their ragged breathing. Ichigo suddenly wished that someone, anyone, would yell at them for making such a racket in the middle of the night.

But there was only silence.

Finally, Rukia moved. She slid back down onto the floor, sighing – a shuddering sound – before drawing her knees up to her chest. She didn't look at him.

“I didn't know you feel that way,” Ichigo tried.

“It's not just me,” Rukia muttered, voice so soft that Ichigo had to scoot closer to hear her. “It's everyone. Renji, Sado, Inoue, and even Ishida...” she shook her head. “I know Sado and Inoue, at least, have been desperately training ever since the war ended to catch up to you so they can protect you. Or, at least, make sure you don't _have_ to protect them again.”

Ichigo opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Rukia gave him a wry glance. “You're more powerful than any of us, there's no doubt about that,” she shrugged. “But Ichigo... there are other things we can help with.”

He couldn't help himself; he really couldn't. 

“Like what?”

“Like making sure that you're not jerked around like a puppet by every threat that we come across,” Rukia said flatly. She paused. “Or by Urahara or Kurotsuchi or Yamamoto-soutaichou... or by Nii-sama, even.”

Ichigo made to protest, but she was steam-rolling over him. Again.

“You always charge into situations whenever you even think one of your friends is in danger, you know,” Rukia said. “I've been thinking things through, and it's _really_ obvious that Urahara knew you and have watched you enough to know that tendency of yours. That's why he gave me that gigai that stole my powers.”

He must look like a fish by now. But he honestly didn't care, too caught up by what Rukia was saying.

“How many times have people told you something and get you all fired up thinking that one of your friends is being hurt?” she continued. “Muramasa wasn't the only one. Hell, he wasn't even the first.”

Still frozen, still staring, Ichigo couldn't do anything as Rukia leaned over and knocked her fist against his temple.

“If you keep trying to protect us without letting us do the same, you're just going to end up landing all of us into even _more_ trouble. Especially with how powerful you are now.”

“Oh,” Ichigo said.

So it was... so it was _his_ \--

“Don't start thinking that it's your fault that we're hurt, you idiot,” Rukia rolled her eyes. “You're not the only one who has been manipulated, and it's not your fault that you're surrounded by unscrupulous bastards who play with people like girls with dolls.”

His thoughts screeched into a halt.

She smacked him again. “Besides, that's not my point.”

“Alright,” Ichigo said softly. “What _is_ your point?”

“You need to learn to trust us, you know?” she told him, a grin hinting at the corner of her mouth. “Stop charging into things and talk to us first.”

Slowly, his hand came up, dragging through his hair. His world felt a little shaky. While he could blame the many punches she had landed on his head for the past hour or so they had been talking, Ichigo didn't think that was the case.

He drew his legs up, setting his chin on his knees as he looked at her. Despite what she had told him, he still couldn't help but think that it was _his_ fault that his friends constantly found themselves in danger; that it was due to his lack that they came to any sort of harm.

But then again, Ichigo was used to thoughts like that. He spent years thinking that it was his fault that his mother died – not just because he couldn't save her, but also because he was the one who rushed towards that little girl spirit. There had been a time when he had hated his ability to see the dead, and tried to block it all out of his head. But that wasn't possible; his powers were as much a part of him as his orange hair.

Still... this wasn't the same. This was something he _could_ change about himself. It wouldn't be easy – he had been reliant on his instincts for so long that doing anything else took a great deal of effort – but nothing had ever been easy in his life anyway.

He took a deep breath, lifting his head up to meet Rukia's eyes. She had been watching him, silent and patient.

“I'll try,” he said. “I'll talk to you... or Chad, or Inoue,” probably not Ishida, because the other boy would either laugh at him or die from a heart attack at the thought of being asked for help, “and I won't rush headlong into things.”

Pausing, he gave her a wry smile. “I can't promise to not try to protect all of you, though.”

Rukia rolled her eyes at him again, reaching out and punching him on the shoulder. “I don't expect you to,” she said, droll. “It'll take more than one conversation to rid you of your natural stupidity.”

“HEY!”

***

Although he far preferred the cherry for his Division, Shunsui couldn't help but admire the beauty of the Thirteen's grounds, littered as it was by plum blossoms. There was a starkness here in the bleach-white flowers with their hearts as red as blood, framed by leaves so green that they turned into gems under the sunlight. It was all so bright and Shunsui knew there were several people who would call it tasteless – Byakuya being one, with his tastes so noble-bred – but he liked the naturalness of it all, untamed by the hands of an army of gardeners. 

A petal floated downwards, curling past his broad hand to land in his sake dish. Shunsui looked at it, taking in the the contrast of the paper-white with the colourless liquid before he sipped the alcohol from around the sides of the dish, chasing the subtle and elusive flower-flavour.

“It's a good omen, you know,” Ukitake murmured. “Though, in terms of tradition, it should be tea, rather than sake.”

His best friend was seated opposite him, leaning against the trunk of a tree that was broader and sturdier-looking than he was. Their legs were half-tangled beneath the woollen blanket they brought from Ukitake's office to keep out the last dregs of winter's chill. 

“Ah,” he grinned, the smile half-hidden beneath his straw hat. “But when have you take me to be a man of tradition, Ukitake?”

“Never,” the other man retorted immediately. “Except when it serves you well as a tool.”

Ukitake seemed to wish to continue, perhaps to tease him further, but a wisp of wind brushed over their skins. Its fingers seeped through their clothes even as it made the flowers danced around him. Ukitake shivered, his words lost in the cold, and Shunsui could nearly hear Katen Kyokotsu's laughter at the back of his mind. 

She had always loved this time of the year.

Usually, at this point, Shunsui would smile and offer his kimono to his friend to help warm him further. Ukitake would refuse, and they would banter, the words distracting Shunsui from the sound of his sword's voice ( _voices_ ) in his ear.

This time, he picked up the teapot and poured more tea into Ukitake's cup instead.

“Have more,” he said. “It'll warm you.”

The break from routine wasn't one that went unnoticed. Ukitake's brown eyes narrowed at him even as he picked up the cup, wrapping his fingers around the heated earthenware as he sipped.

“What troubles you today, Kyouraku?”

“What makes you think that there is anything troubling me?” he raised an eyebrow.

The only answer he received was a sceptical look, and Shunsui laughed. He tipped his head back, draining his sake and savouring the sweet-bitter warmth that slid down his throat.

“We are currently at an impasse,” he started, soft and low. “Lives hang in the balance, and all we can do is wait.”

Ukitake raised an eyebrow. “You doubt the wisdom of the Central Forty-Six?” he asked, irony twisting his smile, creating shadows at the sides of his mouth.

Of course the other Captain would know exactly what he was talking about, no matter the vagaries of his words. Shunsui returned the smile with the same darkness.

“I distrust their narrow-mindedness,” he said. “I distrust that they, in all their wisdom, would realise the liberties that Yama-jii has taken with the judgements he had made so far, and lay down a opposing decision just to be contrary.”

His friend leaned forward, picking up the jar of sake and pouring more for him. The white petal floated back on top, and Shunsui chased it with his lips for a momentary distraction.

“Do you believe that Genryuusai-sensei will not be able to persuade them of the reasons behind his decisions?”

Shunsui gave him a wry look. “I fear that he does not have enough conviction.”

“The last Forty-Six had favoured objectivity far above any impassioned pleas,” Ukitake pointed out, leaning even further back against the tree. “Genryuusai-sensei does not have nearly as strong a connection to Starrk-san and Lilynette-chan as you do, and that will serve his defence well.”

Sputtering at the image of Yama-jii having the kind of _connection_ that he had with Starrk, Shunsui banged on his own chest. “Ukitake, you--” he tried to say, but was overcome by another fit of coughing at alcohol burned his throat.

Ukitake was laughing, throwing his head back as he shook from the mirth. Shunsui gave him a half-hearted glare, kicking him gently beneath the blankets.

After a moment, his fellow Captain shook his head. He drew one leg up to his chest, resting his elbow on it and his head on his hand.

Shunsui looked into his eyes for a moment before he sighed.

“The Central Forty-Six have always been terrible at accepting creatures they have no name for,” he said quietly, tipping his head up to stare at the plum blossoms above. “You know that well enough.”

His friend nodded, amusement fleeing from his face. They both knew, and understood, the small-mindedness of their ruling council. A hundred years ago, when Aizen forced the first Shinigami-Hollow hybrids into being, the decision for execution was more than half motivated by the fear of the unknown. Shunsui had no doubts that the reason why Otoribashi, Hirako, and Mugurama were allowed to return as Captains were partly influenced by the name they had chosen for themselves; that of _Visored_.

When something had a name, it was known; it did not need to be feared as much as a nameless thing.

“Should we find a name for them then?” Ukitake asked. 

“Weren't you the one who said that they need no more names than their own?”

Draining his tea, Ukitake shook his head. “Those words are for the Captains; for those who will have to see and interact with them on a daily basis,” he said, eyes hidden beneath his hair as he poured another cup of tea. “There needs be another strategy when dealing with the Central Forty-Six, who will never meet them.”

“What name shall we give them, then?” Shunsui asked, cocking his head to his side.

“Well,” Ukitake chuckled. “I leave them up to you. You have always been better with words and language than I am.”

Shunsui pouted. It was completely ignored for the sake of hot tea.

“Besides,” his friend continued. “You probably already have something in mind, haven't you?”

Tipping his head back, Shunsui let himself fall onto the grass. He stared up towards the petals, idly tracing lines and curves between the red hearts to form a pattern, some sort of shape.

“I have been studying the Living World language that the Hollows' language are the most similar to,” he said. The name of it was Spanish, and he couldn't help but wonder just _why_ the Hollows had chosen that particular language out of so many, and if it was even a conscious choice at all.

Shaking his head to dislodge those thoughts, he lifted his eyes, meeting Ukitake's expectant gaze. “In that language, _Visored_ is similar to _visor_ , meaning the sight of the gun; while _Arrancar_ means ‘to uproot’. But I believe we should move beyond descriptions of their masks, so I'm thinking of...” he hummed under his breath. “ _Juntura,_ or even _Alianza._ ”

“What does either mean?”

“ _Juntura_ refers to a joint,” he said, lips slowly curving up into a smile. “While _Alianza_ represents a form of alliance, usually used between two different armies.”

The light in Ukitake's eyes seemed to shift slightly, and Shunsui knew that his friend immediately understood the reasons behind those names. Still, they were accurate – after all, weren't Starrk and Lilynette the physical and symbolic proof of the joining between Hollow and Shinigami; that the traditional enemies were not as opposite as they once thought? Especially after the two of them managed to take a Shinigami's zanpaktou for their own.

“ _Alianza_ is probably better suited for Central Forty-Six's ears, for it will assure them that our acceptance of Starrk-san and Lilynette-chan is based upon their usefulness,” Ukitake said.

Shunsui nodded. “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer,” he murmured.

“But _Juntura_ is more fitting, and I believe that Starrk-san and Lilynette-chan will like it better as well,” Ukitake continued, folding his hands as he leaned back against the tree again.

He glanced towards Shunsui.

“Should we ask them which they prefer?”

“I already know their responses,” Shunsui shook his head. “Lilynette-chan will choose _Juntura_ , simply because she likes the sound of it better, and she will order us to completely disregard the possible reactions of the Central Forty-Six.”

“In far less polite terms,” Ukitake added, lips twitching.

Shunsui nodded, a grin tugging on his own lips in reply. “While Starrk... he will tell us to choose whichever that we think best, and avoid making a decision at all. However, his discomfort regarding _Alianza_ will be obvious.”

“The decision should be clear, but...” Ukitake trailed off.

_But it isn't,_ Shunsui completed for him. Politics usually wasn't; even if the name applied only to Starrk and Lilynette – and thus they should be the one to decide – the purpose of the name itself was to reassure the Central Forty-Six, and what use was it if it only made the close-minded ruling council fear them and all they represented even more?

Sometimes Shunsui wished for the days when he was nothing more than a seated officer; when he could foist off politics to his Captain and wash his hands off the entire matter. But then again, being a seated officer was entirely too boring, so much so that he couldn't even imagine being one for hundreds of years.

Besides, it had been so long since he was less than a Lieutenant that he could barely remember it. __

__Ukitake shook his head. _  
_  
“I wish that we have the leisure to wait for Starrk-san and Lilynette-chan to decide so that we’re not making the decision for them,” he said, dragging a hand through white strands. “But we have a meeting with Genryuusai-sensei soon, and we need the time to prepare our argument.”

“We can ask them now,” Shunsui offered.

His friend gave him a wry look. “I'll take that as a moment of folly and refuse to be insulted.” __

__Opening his eyes as wide as they could go, Shunsui tried for an innocent look. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he said. __

__Ukitake snorted. “That doesn't work on me and never has,” he said, and Shunsui knew that it was only ingrained politeness that stopped his friend from rolling his eyes. “Come off it, Kyouraku. There is something else bothering you, something so large that you are now using _politics_ to distract yourself.” __

__Shunsui chuckled. He lowered his eyes, tugging his straw hat down until it half-covered his face. __

__“So what is it?” Ukitake continued, completely merciless.

After a pause, at which Shunsui didn't say a word, Ukitake came over, flicking the hat to the side. His brown eyes bored into Shunsui's grey ones, narrowed with concern.

“It has something to do with Starrk-san, doesn't it?”

Shunsui looked away, staring blankly up to the plum blossoms. The flowers were so numerous that they blocked out the skies.

“Usually, when someone refuses to speak, it means that they don't want to talk about it,” he said finally.

“Not between us,” Ukitake snorted. “Your refusals to speak are simply invitations for me to pry your secret thoughts out of you until they are laid bare at my feet.”

Closing his eyes, Shunsui swung his arm over his face. He couldn't help a soft laugh escaping him, because Ukitake was right. The two of them knew each other too well for any form of avoidance tactics to work, after all.

And Shunsui had pried into Ukitake's business so much that he couldn't even back away without being called a hypocrite.

So he took a deep breath. He did not open his eyes.

“Three days ago, on the grounds of the Eighth,” he began, “Starrk spoke to me about debt.”

Once he started, he could not stop. The entire tale spilled out of him like water from a cracked glass. Slowly, before the pressure grew too much and the entire container shattered, spilling liquid and shards everywhere. He laid himself bare, the tale perfectly clear as he told his best friend his every word and thought as well as the unvarnished version of Starrk's actions. 

Shunsui had always been a good storyteller. And though his memory was spotted with grey moments where it faded from lack of interest, it was absolutely perfect when it came to events that meant a great deal to him.

He tried to keep the tale objective, but he couldn't help the sharp edges slipping out, all the shards of his frustration and confusion pressing into his throat with every word. He understood, he truly did, but he was at a complete loss.

Hadn't he done everything right?

When the whole thing wound to a close, he sat up, resting his head upon his folded knees. Ukitake's hand was warm and reassuring on his hair.

“It's not your fault,” his friend said, low and soft. “You gave him all you had and told him the truth. But he simply did not understand what it was that he held in his hands.”

Taking a ragged breath, Shunsui poured himself another cup of sake and drained it.

“Do you think I haven't realised that?” he asked, giving Ukitake a crooked smile to blunt the edge of his words. “But Ukitake, I simply don't know how to solve it.”

He shook his head hard when his friend made to speak. The words were threatening once more at the base of his throat; the floodgates had been opened, and he could not stop himself from half-drowning beneath the waters.

“Everything that I am is working against me,” he said, dragging his hand through his hair. “From the word games I love to play with him, to the way I twist things to suit my purposes, and even to my instinctive need to help him in any way I can so that he will stay by my side...”

Biting his lip, he dropped his head down. “Sometimes I wonder if he looks at me and sees Aizen instead.”

Ukitake grabbed him by the shoulder, forcing him to turn around. Shunsui's eyes widened, staring blankly forward.

“He calls you by your given name,” Ukitake said, voice fierce. “And he allows you to use his name without an honorific. Are those not signs of the trust he holds in you?”

“If he trusts me,” Shunsui said slowly, “then why does not see that I am not trying to buy him with my deeds? Why does he not see that though I want him so badly that my very soul aches _,_ I'm not willing to take what he doesn't wish to give? Why does he still speak of _debt_?”

Even though the man was still alive, even though he was locked away in a place where he could not reach anyone, Aizen's ghost still lingered between him and Starrk. He was still there, a leering spectre that took in Shunsui's words and actions and offered them, distorted and twisted, to Starrk's eyes and ears.

And Shunsui honestly had no more ideas how to exorcise him. He had pushed past his own shields to trust Starrk; had wormed himself into the other man's defences to gain _his_ trust. And yet, despite all of that, it still wasn't enough.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost missed Ukitake's words.

“Because he knew nothing else but lies,” Ukitake was saying slowly. “You need to _show_ him the truth.”

Shunsui blinked. He took another breath, the air piercing against his throat with how hard he sucked it in. He steadied his hands.

“What?”

“ _Think_ ,” Ukitake urged him. “Push aside your frustrations, your hurt, and everything else. Your mind is sharper than mine, so look at all that you know about him and _think_ , Shunsui.”

He merely stared.

“I cannot give you the solution because I do not know Starrk-san as well as you do,” Ukitake said, and there was an edge of frustration to his voice now. “You need to figure this out yourself, Kyouraku.”

Shunsui squeezed his eyes shut, dropping his head back onto his knees. The pieces were all in his hands, scattered and blank, without any hint as to the full picture they were supposed to make... He took a deep breath, ridding himself of the fog of panic that had settled upon him that very moment Starrk's hands had drifted to his hips, the fog that had trapped him every since.

After long moments of silence in which he saw nothing but darkness, he tipped his head back and _laughed_.

Because the solution was so clear and obvious all along, and he didn't know how he had missed it the first time.

“ _Words_ ,” he said, forcing his tongue to work even as his shoulders shook with bitter mirth. “That's the problem. Words.”

“You'll have to explain more than that,” Ukitake said wryly. “A thousand years unfortunately does not give me the ability to read your mind, Kyouraku.”

Shunsui glanced at his friend, grinning because he genuinely did not understand how he had not realised this long ago.

“All I have done for him so far are based on words,” he said. “I helped win his freedom with words. I showed him my interest in him through words. I told him my desires through words. I tried to confess my future fidelity through those damned things as well.”

He chuckled again, helplessly. “And yet what Starrk knew,” truly _knew_ with all the confidence implied in that term, “was in what he experienced for himself. All that Aizen had given him are words as well; promises that he, in the end, shattered entirely, leaving only wounds in his wake.”

What a fool he was, to think that he had done all that he could to make Starrk trust him. Perhaps he had done some things; perhaps he had shown Starrk that what Aizen had told him about the concepts that held the world – held _humanity_ – together were all false. But weren't those through words as well? And second-hand words, written by other hands and dumped on Starrk in the form of books and reports from Shunsui’s subordinates.

“I have to show him,” he continued softly, tipping his head back to stare up at the bright flowers and leaves again. It was such a beautiful day. 

Turning towards Ukitake, he quirked a smile. This time, it was without the hint of self-deprecation and mockery.

“Any suggestions on that front?”

Ukitake gave him a flat look. “All that you've promised him will take years before they can be fulfilled,” he pointed out a little unnecessarily. “But I don't think that's the answer you're looking for.”

“It's not,” Shunsui said.

“When have you become so impatient?” Ukitake raised an eyebrow.

Shunsui chuckled. “The long years I have lived have simply made my desire burn brighter, so much that I'm nearly blinded whenever I close my eyes.”

His friend kicked him again, rolling his eyes.

“ _You_ try having someone who is essentially all that you're looking for in the past thousand years right in front of you and not being able to have him,” Shunsui huffed, nearly pouting again.

There was a long silence from Ukitake's end. Shunsui glanced at him, blinking at the shock written all over his friend's face.

“Ukitake?” he prompted.

Slowly, Ukitake shook his head. “Well,” he said finally. “I don't think that your parents would be particularly pleased at having... well, a former Hollow for a son-in-law. I think the elders might just have a fit.”

Shunsui waved a hand dismissively. “How much do you think I care about their opinions?”

“Around the same amount you care about traditions,” Ukitake shot back wryly. 

Suddenly, Shunsui had an idea. He whirled around to his friend, his lips curving up entirely into a grin. “Do you think Starrk will be convinced of my intentions if I bring him back to meet my parents? And the elders?”

Ukitake _stared_ at him for another long minute before he burst out laughing. “Only if you want to scare him off completely!”

“Do you think he will be so easily intimidated?”

“ _Shunsui_!” Ukitake yelped, smacking him on the shoulder. “You're bringing someone who has only the briefest knowledge about Soul Society into the highest echelons of Seireitei. It'll be an unmitigated disaster and he'll _definitely_ hate you for it.”

“Why?” Shunsui blinked. “There is really nothing objectionable about his manners.”

“For usual society, sure,” Ukitake retorted, tart. “But would he know the first dish to start with in a _kaiseki_ meal? Does he know the _exact_ level to bow to each member according to their age or position, or even the various forms of _keigo_ to use?”

“Ukitake,” Shunsui drawled, his lips twitching. “Not even I know that.”

That earned him another smack, right across the back of his head. “You do,” Ukitake said, crossing his arms. “Even if you have convinced yourself that you have forgotten all of it entirely, you do, Kyouraku.”

“Look,” Shunsui said, trying for earnestness this time. “I would tell him beforehand that I frankly do not care about any of those finicky manners that my family care about, that I'm bringing him to see my family to show him that I _am_ serious about my interest being permanent. That would solve it, wouldn't it?”

Ukitake rolled his eyes. “Do you think he would remember that amidst the humiliations that your family would surely pile upon him?”

“They wouldn't dare,” Shunsui scowled.

“But they would,” Ukitake told him. “Even if they dare not speak to him with rudeness with you there, they would behave in such a way that it would be absolutely clear to Starrk-san that they think him no better than the dirt between their toes. Have you forgotten just how observant he is?”

He sighed. Then, in a much softer tone: “Have you forgotten how they treated _me_?”

Shunsui's shoulders dropped. “Of course I do,” he said, his lips pressed into a line.

His friendship with Ukitake had always been one of the biggest rifts between him and his family. Not the first, of course – Shunsui had never fitted well amongst them, because he simply never cared about power and bloodline the way they did. He had brought Ukitake home, wishing to show his friend the beauty of the Kyouraku estate, and his family had taken one look at Ukitake, taking in his name and his sickness, and told Shunsui in all seriousness that he should break off his friendship with the other boy because he simply wasn't 'worth the time of one of the Kyouraku clan's blood.'

“Have I told you how much I hate my family?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Not in recent memory, no,” Ukitake chuckled in reply. 

Right, he hadn't spoken about them for at least a decade by now. He hadn't visited the estate for even longer; not since that time fifteen or so years ago when he had created such chaos during the yearly family meeting that he was no longer required to attend. 

“So it's a bad idea to bring Starrk to them then,” he said. He really couldn't help the overwrought mournful tone that slipped into his words.

“I wouldn't say that,” Ukitake said.

Shunsui blinked, his head shooting upwards. “What?”

“It would be a good idea after a year or two, or even a decade or two,” Ukitake shrugged. “When he is sure of his position in your heart, and is certain of himself enough to dismiss their words.”

A sly smile curved up his lips. “It would be a beautiful opportunity to piss your family off.”

Surprised – not just by the suggestion but also by that Ukitake just _swore_ – Shunsui barked a laugh. “I suppose, yes,” he grinned. 

Then he sagged again. “But first I need to bring him to the point where he _is_ sure,” he grumbled. “And if I can't bring him to my family to do so, then I'm out of ideas.”

Ukitake hummed. He leaned away from Shunsui, flopping down onto the grass on his stomach and kicking his legs up into the air. Petals flew up, landing on his haori and hair, the red hearts of the blossoms contrasting strikingly against the expanse of white.

Shunsui plucked a few and ran the waxy surfaces over his fingers while he waited. He resisted the childish urge to start a game of 'he loves me, he loves me not'.

“Why don't you bring him to Rukongai?” Ukitake said suddenly.

“Eh?”

“He hasn't been out of Seireitei ever since he came to Soul Society, right?” his friend said, his eyes piercing on Kyouraku. “So bring him outside.”

Shunsui blinked.

“Besides,” Ukitake continued, propping his head up on a hand. “How long has it been since you dated?”

That was... Shunsui leaned in. He placed a gentle hand on Ukitake's head, catching brown eyes with his own. He did his utmost to make sure that his expression was as serious as it could be.

“I think you're going senile in your old age, _Jyuushirou_ ,” he smirked. “Have you forgotten that the two of us in fact pre-datedating, or even courtship?”

Ukitake rolled his eyes, but Shunsui wasn't finished.

“How much time have you been spending with with Rukia-chan?” he asked, frowning. “Or Ichigo-kun, for the matter, if you are asking me _this_?”

Swatting at his hand, Ukitake sat up, huffing. “Fine then,” he waved a hand, turning away. “Ignore my suggestion. I shall no longer attempt to help you.”

They turned away from each other. Somehow, their eyes managed to find each other, and Shunsui did not allow his mouth to twitch. He was simply waiting.

Eventually, Ukitake broke, and he started chuckling. Shunsui's control over himself snapped at the same time, and he nudged his friend hard in the ribs as he doubled over.

“In all seriousness,” Ukitake said, the gravity of his words completely lost because he was still snickering like a boy. Shunsui nudged him again, and he cleared his throat before giving Shunsui a stern glance.

“I do think that bringing him out to Rukongai would be a good idea,” he said.

Shunsui took a deep breath, gathering all of his mirth and stuffing it deep within him. He cackled just once more before he calmed.

“So do I,” he smiled. “I just can't help teasing you when you say something as ridiculous as that.”

“Is it really ridiculous?” Ukitake arched an eyebrow, looking imperious. “Would an outing like that not classify as a date?”

“Not for the purpose I have for it,” Shunsui shook his head. “It's more of a... hm, trust exercise?”

“Oh?”

“I told him that I trust him,” he explained, shrugging. “Now I'm showing it to him by bringing him out amongst plus souls that he can destroy without a thought.”

He gave Ukitake a wry smile in return for the sharp look his friend gave him.

“That's not really what I'm planning, but it's how he will see it.”

“What is it that you are planning, then?”

“Exactly what you're thinking of when you suggesting it,” he spread out his hands. “I'll show him Rukongai. I'll show him the lives of the plus souls that populate most of Soul Society. I'll bring him to the shops and stores and show him all that humans are capable of making. I'll even bring him to the quaint little workshops to show him _how_ things are made.”

Ukitake raised an eyebrow. “One of the First Districts, then?”

Shunsui nodded. “I'm thinking of Junrinan.”

“Where Hitsugaya-kun and Hinamori-fukutaichou are from...” Ukitake murmured, tapping his lip. “It'll be a good place to start. The plus souls there are used to feeling the weight of Shinigami reiatsu.”

“That's part of why I chose it,” Shunsui said. “The other reason is that it is prettier than the other three First Districts, especially at this time of the year.”

The Third District of West Rukongai, Hokutan, was the most beautiful in of the upper-level districts when autumn was turning into winter, because it had high mountains planted full of maple and gingko trees. Shunsui truly regretted not bringing Starrk there at the time.

But then again, the other man wasn't allowed out of Seireitei during that particular period. Shunsui would've broken the rules without thought, but Starrk didn't seem to _want_ to leave either.

“When will you be asking him?” Ukitake asked, jerking him out of his thoughts.

Shunsui blinked, turning to his friend. “Why do you want to know?”

“I need to prepare your excuses in case Genryuusai-sensei or the Central Forty-Six decide that you're overstepping your boundaries,” Ukitake told him.

Slowly, Shunsui smiled. He reached out, squeezing Ukitake's shoulder. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Ukitake waved his gratitude away like he always did. “So?”

“Next week, most likely,” Shunsui shrugged. “It'll have to be soon, so that we do not miss the flowers.”

“If he agrees,” Ukitake said, something that was almost a warning.

Shunsui laughed. “If he agrees.”

He turned his head up to look at the plum blossoms again. There were more than one reason for his haste: the Central Forty-Six might overturn Yama-jii's decision and take Starrk's current freedom away, for one thing.

For another... the last memories he had made under the pink-white blossoms were heavy and dark. And he wanted something better, sweeter, to replace it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I speak four languages, Spanish is unfortunately not one of them. So I took the Spanish from the Internet. If any of it is wrong, please tell me so I can fix it. Before you ask, no, English isn't my first language. It might as well be, given how much I use it in comparison to the other three, but it isn't.
> 
> Also, I'm rather worried for Ichigo's characterisation here. I... don't usually write him, and I hope that he's still okay/IC!
> 
> **Edit (28 Dec 2014):** I changed ‘Alistarse’ to ‘Alianza’ based upon the correction of hellbeast on AO3.


	21. Mine/Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starrk and Shunsui move to the next step of their relationship.

The kimono was wrapped around his chest high enough to cover his collarbones entirely, and the scarf draped over his neck was a strange weight even though it was made of light cotton. Starrk fidgeted slightly beneath the clothes, fingers twitching as he fought to not pull the scarf off or the collar down.

Shunsui, walking a little distance ahead, turned around and gave him a teasing grin.

“You look good in that, you know,” the Captain said.

Starrk shook his head. “That’s not what I’m worried about,” he said. He never cared about his own looks, after all. “It’s just feels weird to have something on my mask fragment.”

As an involuntary emphasis, he rubbed at the bone beneath the cloth.

The smile dimmed a little, turning apologetic. “I wouldn’t have asked you to wear it if it wasn’t necessary,” Shunsui told him. “People in the First Districts might be more aware about what happens in Seireitei more than anyone else in Rukongai because the Shinigami drop by so often, but they are like any other plus soul in their instinctive fear of Hollows.”

“I know,” Starrk nodded. He raised his hands, making the white stone on his wrists gleam in the bright sunlight. “That’s part of why I’m wearing these, right?”

Shunsui reached out, stroking his fingertips over the bird of paradise flower engraved on one restraint. “I wish you don’t have to wear them.”

The other reason was, of course, the possibility of Starrk’s reiatsu crushing and eating the multitudes of helpless plus souls in Rukongai. Of course, he _could_ control his reiatsu – better now especially with Masamune’s help – but Central Forty-Six apparently wasn’t taking any chances.

Starrk shrugged. “I don’t mind,” he said honestly. “It’s good enough that I don’t have to wear them within Seiretei already.”

He still wasn’t entirely sure how the Central Forty-Six had been convinced to make that particular decision. According to Shunsui, the argument went that, in the case of a sudden attack or invasion, he would be completely useless as a weapon against enemies if he was restrained, especially if Shunsui and Ukitake were too occupied by fighting to release him.

Honestly, Starrk would rather have to wear them all the time. He was still nervous about walking around without them. What if he lost control of his reiatsu? What would happen to the unranked Shinigami then? They were little better than plus souls in term of power, after all, and Starrk’s reiatsu was a hungry, grasping thing.

Well, Starrk knew he could still go around wearing the restraints – he wasn’t _forbidden_ to do so, after all. But at the same time, he knew all too well that not making full use of the freedoms given to him would be suspicious in the eyes of those who did not trust him. And there were still far too many who didn’t.

Watching Shunsui out of the corner of his eye, Starrk wondered distantly just how the man managed to stay sane when he needed to constantly think in circles like these. There were so many things to keep in mind all at the same time that he was dizzied by it. It was almost enough to make him wish for the simple emptiness of Hueco Mundo. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He blinked, lifting his eyes up. Shunsui was watching him, head cocked to the side, and Starrk shook his head.

“It’s nothing really,” he said. When Shunsui frowned, clearly about to prod him further, Starrk waved a hand. “You haven’t told me about where we’re going.”

There was a moment of silence when Shunsui looked at him, clearly contemplating whether he should go with that far-too-obvious change of subject. Starrk shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark blue hakama, forcing himself to not fidget as he met that gaze.

Then Shunsui smiled again. 

“We’re going to Junrinan,” he said, throwing his arms out in a flourish. “It’s the First District of North Rukongai.”

Starrk blinked. “That would actually mean something if I know more about Rukongai,” he said wryly.

He knew that it was a little ridiculous that he knew so little about what laid outside Seireitei’s tall white walls after being in Soul Society for the past months, but Starrk had been occupied. Not just with Masamune with the conflict before him, but also with learning to read and write and finding the stories that Aizen had told him and learning the truths the man had hidden beneath the lies.

Not to mention catching up on the history of Seireitei and the way things worked around the place. There were so many rules, both spoken and unspoken, that it had taken him _weeks_ of stumbling around in the dark before he even managed to have a conversation with Ise Nanao without her frowning.

(Though he never had a problem with Shunsui, he knew that was less because of his own proficiency than with the Captain’s complete and utter disregard for most rules unless it was convenient for him to follow them.)

Shunsui was smiling at him now, clearly waiting for his attention. When Starrk focused on him again, he slipped his arm into the crook of Starrk’s elbow, starting to yank him along.

“Seireitei has four gates – north, south, east, and west,” he said. “Outside of each gate are three hundred and sixty districts, separated into eighty districts each in the four directions. We’re going to the First District of North Rukongai, which is right outside the _Kokuryoumon_.”

“The Black Ridge Gate,” Starrk murmured. “Is there a reason for the name?”

“Not that I know of,” Shunsui shrugged, which probably meant that there was no reason at all or that it was too boring for him to remember. “Anyway, the name of the District is Junrinan, and it’s pretty famous for the beauty of their sakura.”

Starrk raised an eyebrow. “If I want to see trees, I could’ve just stayed in your Division,” he pointed out.

“They don’t just have trees,” Shunsui laughed. “You see, the souls who come to Rukongai usually bring with them some remnants of their skills, so there are plenty of shops around with craftsmen selling their wares.”

Now _that_ was interesting. There were shops within the walls of Seiretei, of course, all of them manned by the non-Shinigami members of minor nobility, but the things they sold were purely practical – clothes and food and utensils and such. Things of beauty were never displayed, because those in Seireitei who had enough spare cash for such things always had what they wanted custom-made.

“What kind of things?” he asked.

“Everything you can think of under the sun,” came the prompt and unhelpful reply. Shunsui laughed again at the flat look Starrk gave him.

“I’m planning to take you on a tour, Starrk,” he said. “And you can see what I mean by ‘everything’.”

As they were speaking, ther gate approached. Starrk turned towards it, tipping his head up. The walls were so high that they seemed to reach the skies, the white stone practically melting into the clouds that were drifting around the wide blue expanse.

“Danzoumaru!” Shunsui yelled, his voice so sudden and close that Starrk jumped. “Mind opening the gate for us?”

There was no reply. Starrk stared blankly at the gate in front of him – it was a giant piece of white stone, belying its name, with no hinges whatsoever. Just _how_ was the gate going to be opened?

His question was answered when he heard the sound of shifting gears. Starrk watched, gaping, as the stone lifted itself up. It was only for an inch, maybe two, before the sounds stopped. Then a bunch of thick fingers appeared in the gap, and the gate was literally _lifted_ upwards through sheer physical strength, revealing a pair of legs – each thicker than four of Starrk placed together – clothed in the usual black hakama of the Shinigami’s shikahashou.

Starrk had seen Yammy in his released form; had been there when Yammy was named Cero Espada out of the sheer strength of his reiatsu. But this man – if he was a man at all – seemed even bigger than he was.

“Come on, Starrk,” Shunsui tugged on his arm.

He followed Shunsui automatically, half-stumbling in the other man’s grasp. His eyes were still fixed upon the figure, and he almost fell over himself when the gatekeeper – for surely that was who he was – released his hold on the gate and it went crashing down, sending a huge cloud of dust around them.

“It’s rare that you’re using the gate to come to Rukongai, Kyouraku-taichou,” a loud, rumbling voice said.

Slowly, Starrk raised his head. His gaze skimmed past the huge chest to see a head almost as big as a boulder. The skin was dark, he noted dully, and the man was entirely bald. The only hair on his head was his bushy white eyebrows.

“Well, going by _shunpo_ over the gate would’ve defeated the point of a sightseeing tour, wouldn’t it?” Shunsui grinned. “One of the greatest sights of the First Districts are the gatekeepers, after all.”

The giant snorted. “I hardly think of myself as a tourist attraction, Kyouraku-taichou,” he said.

“It would be a shame if Starrk-san missed a sight that practically every Academy student had seen,” Shunsui countered. “You don’t mind, do you, Danzoumaru?”

“My duty is to open and close the gate,” came the mild reply. “The reasons to do so is not for me to consider.”

Shunsui sighed, exaggeratedly dramatic. “You’re no fun,” he huffed. Turning, he smiled at Starrk. “Shall I introduce you? Starrk, this is Danzoumaru, the Gate Guardian of the Kokuryomon in the North.”

Starrk barely gathered enough wits around himself to nod.

“Danzoumaru, this is Coyote Starrk,” he began.

“The former Primera Espada, who fought against Aizen and weakened him so that the Substitute Shinigami Kurosaki Ichigo could defeat him,” Danzoumaru rumbled. “The man who risked his life when aiding the Shinigami against the rogue zanpaktou Muramasa. I have heard of you.” 

“You’re pretty caught up in your news, Danzoumaru,” Shunsui remarked, sounding amused.

“Of course, Kyouraku-taichou,” the giant said. “Though I do not step into Seireitei frequently, I dislike being ignorant of its happenings.”

“But it’s strange,” Shunsui continued, and there was that note in his voice that Starrk was familiar with; that implied that he was planning something. “Most of our unranked and lower-ranked Shinigami do not know what happened. So who told you about Starrk?”

Danzoumaru looked unruffled. “The Captain-Commander told us all Gate Guardians about him and Lilynette Gingerbuck, so that we will not mistakenly raise the alarm if we notice them leaving or entering Seireitei.”

“Yama-jii did?” Now _this_ was something unfamiliar – Shunsui’s surprise.

“Yes,” Danzoumaru nodded. “Is that a legitimate enough source of information for you, Kyouraku-taichou?”

Shunsui was silent for a moment, a strange look on his face. Then he nodded, smiling. “Well, I’m sorry for doubting you.” He turned to Starrk. “Come on, we should get going. The day isn’t waiting for everyone.”

“Wait,” Starrk said. His mind was still reeling, but there was one thing that was stuck in his head. “The Captain-Commander told you _that_ about me?”

Surprise looked odd on the giant’s face, as if he was entirely unused to the emotion. “Yes, Starrk-san,” he said, and the honourific was unexpected too. “Should he have said something else?”

_Yes_ , Starrk thought. He had expected the old man to say a multitude of other things: that he was a Hollow; that he could not be fully trusted; that the gatekeepers should keep a close eye on him just in case he went on a rampage or something and hurt the plus souls in Rukongai; or even that they had orders to not allow him to leave and to raise the alarm if he tried.

But Shunsui’s hand was over his mouth, his arm over his chest, and Starrk found himself being bodily dragged away before he could even say a word.

“Nope, there’s nothing else that he should’ve said!” Shunsui said cheerfully. “Don’t worry about it, Danzoumaru! Keep up the good work!”

When Shunsui moved into _shunpo_ , Starrk didn’t even have the presence of mind to activate his own _sonido_. So he found himself being dragged along, feet floating through the air, before Shunsui stopped.

They were in a copse of trees, their leaves bright green from the season. Starrk barely noticed his surroundings, his attention almost entirely fixed on Shunsui.

“What was that?” he asked, barely being able to keep the hysteria from his voice.

Shunsui looked at him, lips curving up into a crooked smile. “That was your efforts paying off, Starrk,” he said gently.

“What?”

“It’s hard to gain Yama-jii’s trust, you know,” Shunsui told him, folding his arms into his sleeves. “He has lived for so long and has seen so much, but, somehow, you have managed to convince him that you can be trusted. That you should be given all the freedoms that every Shinigami within Seireitei has a right to.”

Starrk blinked. He ruthlessly stamped down on the hope rising within him.

“Are you sure it’s my efforts and not yours?” he asked, trying his best to keep his voice light.

But Shunsui was looking at him, solemn and sorrowful, and he knew he had failed.

“Yama-jii might listen to what I say, but his judgments are always his own,” the Captain said, sighing softly. “Even if I exhaust myself talking, he would have never seen you as one of his without you proving that you’re worthy of that distinction.”

“One of-” Starrk tried not to choke. “One of _his_?”

Shunsui grinned. “Every Shinigami in the Gotei Thirteen is one of Yama-jii’s,” he said, cheerfully slapping Starrk on the shoulder. “Welcome to the fold.”

Closing his eyes, Starrk slumped against the closest tree, his legs no longer able to hold him up. He knew he should be happy, because this was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To be accepted, to be part of something, to _belong_. And yet his mind refused to believe it, because surely, surely…

“There are responsibilities you should fulfil, of course,” Shunsui told him, clearly reading his mind.

“Like what?”

“Why, fighting for us, of course,” Shunsui said cheerfully. “You must defend Seireitei, help to protect the lives of the Shinigami around you, fight against any enemies that we come across… Just like any other shinigami.”

Starrk had stopped breathing at some point. He tried to start up his lungs again.

“Of course, most Shinigami also have the duty of performing konso, but I think Yama-jii has decided to put that off somewhat until we have confirmation that you _can_ perform konso on living souls instead of accidentally eating them.”

He forced his eyes open.

Shunsui had leaned in at some point, and he was so close that Starrk could see the flecks of blue in his grey eyes.

“In other words, Starrk,” the Captain said softly. “You just have to do what you have been doing all this while.”

“I…” he licked his lips. “It just seems too _easy_.”

Crooking an eyebrow, Shunsui chuckled. “Is it really? It has been months, Starrk.”

“I thought it would take years,” he replied, voice soft and shaky. “Or even decades.”

“Well, there’s still a ways to go,” Shunsui pointed out. “There are still people who haven’t accepted you yet. But now that Yama-jii is on your side, you have crossed the biggest hurdle, haven’t you?”

Starrk let out a long breath, feeling the air cut against the skin of his throat. He let his head drop forward, resting his forehead against one broad shoulder.

“It just seems too good to be true,” he murmured.

Shunsui’s arms came around him, holding him carefully. “When you want something for a long time and you finally earned it, it always does,” he said.

They stayed like that while Starrk counted heartbeats; while he steadied his own breathing. Shunsui was warm and solid and _grounding_ against him, and it felt safe in a way he had never known before this man.

“You lied to the gatekeeper,” he muttered finally. “You didn’t bring me through the gate to do a proper scenic tour, did you? You brought me here so the gatekeeper could tell me what he had.”

The sound of Shunsui’s chuckles made the air vibrate, and the tiny tremours sank deep past skin and nerves to wind around Starrk’s heart.

“Mm, I did,” he admitted, completely unabashed. “I knew I couldn’t fool you.”

Starrk lifted his head, looking into grey eyes before he shook his head. “You weren’t trying very hard.”

“What’s the use?” Shunsui grinned. “You would’ve figured it out no matter how hard I try.”

Well, that was likely true. But at the same time… Starrk’s fingers stroked over the curve of Shunsui’s cheeks. He knew that it was a show of faith too – of _trust_ – that Shunsui was so easy with the knowledge that Starrk could see through him with barely any effort.

Before he thought about it, he was leaning in, brushing their lips together. He let the taste of Shunsui’s lips, the tremulous gasps against his mouth, to still the thoughts of debt and fairness in his head.

When he pulled away, there was a knowing look in Shunsui’s eyes that told him that the Captain knew exactly what he was thinking about. Starrk was about to apologise when he was tugged forward.

“Come on,” Shunsui said. “I do mean it when I said I wanted to show you Junrinan.”

Starrk looked at him. Looked at the way Shunsui’s hand was curled so gently around his wrist, right above stone. He swallowed back all the useless apologies he wanted to say, and nodded instead.

“Okay,” he breathed. Let’s go then.”

The first thing Starrk noticed when they arrived by _shunpo_ straight into the heart of the District was that the streets of Junrinan was different from Seireitei’s. There were no paved concrete roads, only smoothed dirt with patches still wet from the summer rains. Starrk stepped carefully, trying his best to not dirty his tabi. Then Shunsui tugged him forward, nearly making him trip. Mud splashed on the white cloth, and Starrk gave it up for the loss.

It was far more interesting to focus on everything around him instead of his feet anyway.

Everything was so much… dirtier here. Seireitei had always been a sea of gleaming colours: white and red and grey and beige and blue and so many others, all constantly polished and cleaned whether by manual labour or kido spells. Its streets never had a single hint of trash. But Junrinan did not have members of the Fourth dedicated to cleaning, and there was dirt on the streets – cigarette butts and ash, paper wrappers, pieces of strings, scraps of cloth, and even dropped food from time to time. The awnings of almost every house was slightly frayed, black dulled to grey and red to brown by time and the weather’s beatings.

Even the cobblestones were different: rougher, with sharp edges here and there where the stones did not fit as well; where pieces were washed away from rain or cracked open by sunshine.

To Starrk, so used to the endless, unchanging sands of Hueco Mundo despite the months he had spent in Seireitei, Junrinan was filled to the brim with signs of _life_.

Not just life, but _art_ as well. He stumbled to a stop in front of a shop. Its window was stained with some fingerprints, and he added to them as he stared inside. There were tiny dolls there, each unique with their faces intricately carved and painted – noses, lips, cheekbones. Their eyes were made of bright, almost life-like glass. His breath caught in his throat when he noticed the kimono of a male doll: its sleeves were embroidered with ripple-like waves, perfectly miniaturised.

When Shunsui dragged him up to the workshop on the second floor, Starrk gaped like a child. There was a woman wearing glasses there, embroidering a piece of cloth tinier than her palm. She explained that it was made for a doll in the shape of an infant, and Starrk stood there and watched as the kanji for _blessing_ and _good fortune_ came to life beneath her skilful fingers and needle.

He had never thought that something so small could have so much detail.

When he finally managed to leave, his attention was snatched by the window of the shop across. There were shoes there, zori embroidered with thread just a subtle shade darker or lighter than the cloth. But what fascinated him most was the shoes smaller than his hand, barely bigger than a doll’s clothes, with sharply-pointed toes and tiny heels the size of his thumb.

They were not for dolls, Shunsui explained. They were for women – real women, old souls who died more than seventy years ago; women who lived during a time when a country named China in the Living World still had the custom of binding the feet of their women. These tiny, bright-coloured things were for them to wear.

Shunsui dragged him off again before Starrk could ask how women could _walk_ if they were full-grown and their feet were so tiny.

The Captain brought him to a shop that sold kimono. Unlike those in Seireitei, where there was nothing on display except bolts upon bolts of cloth, there were ready-made kimono here, all made for women. They were in summer’s colours – primarily greens and golds and oranges and dark purples, splattered with some reds and pinks. Flowers bloomed on cloth, either printed on cotton or stitched on silk.

More than simply kimono were on display. Shunsui explained that, for women, there were many different pieces they had to wear. There was the wide obi and the rope-like obi-age that Starrk had seen Masamune wore when he was still Muramasa; there was the inner collar made of a different material and colour; there was the clips worn on top of the obi-age; there was even hair accessories made of wood or porcelain or metal painted to match the seasons.

When they left the shop, Starrk was extremely glad that he was not a woman. For men, there was only the kimono itself, the sash, and perhaps hakama and haori if one chose. He was also glad that Lilynette’s obsession was with yukata instead of kimono, because she surely would have completely bankrupted Ukitake’s and Shunsui’s combined fortunes with how quickly she went through them.

He asked Shunsui about how the cloth were made, for surely they were all not made by hand like a doll’s clothes. Instead of replying, Shunsui took him down three different turns: past roadside stands selling street food, past houses belching smoke from kilns, past two shrines, past a street full of old men with wood and chisels in their hands.Starrk was practically shoved into a shop emanating a series of clicks that he could hear even down the street. 

There were a group of men and women sitting front of wooden machines that Shunsui told him were called looms. Threads were pulled from the top of the loom down to long columns, and the workers stepped on paddles that wove the threads together to create the patterns and designs. He was drawn towards one particular bolt of cloth being woven with threads in at least ten different shades of grey, from silver to almost-black, and watched as tiny, overlapping diamonds appeared every time the woman stepped on the paddle or shifted her hand.

_Winter’s colours, for a man,_ the worker explained, her smile bright as she trailed gentle fingertips over the web of threads. _We have to start now so that the kimono can be made in late autumn._

When he was allowed to touch, the cloth felt rough and smooth at the same time, gliding over his fingers. It gleamed with a dull sheen beneath the sunlight pouring in from the window, and Starrk knew that he was holding pure silk in his hand. He jerked away instinctively, afraid of dirtying the cloth. 

Shunsui told him, a little wry and sheepish, that his family always ordered cloth from this particular shop. Starrk wasn’t entirely surprised: he had felt the kimono that Shunsui wore over his Captain’s haori; had known the weight of silk in his hand; and figured out a long time ago – ever since he learned about money – that Shunsui was as rich and high-ranked as any noble of Seireitei could be.

He tried not to worry about a man like that being with someone like him – someone who was born and lived during his time in the Living World as little better than gutter trash – accepting the affections of someone with such a high pedigree by dragging Shunsui back towards where he could see smoke billowing.

The entire street smelled of burning wood and baking clay, but the objects shown in every window was different: from vases and pots to bowls and plates to tiny figurines to chopsticks to the ribs of fans. Shunsui tugged him into the last shop, and Starrk followed, his eyes widening at the sight of thin cloth painted with pictures of plants – bamboo and plum and sakura and pine and maple – and animals – goldfish and carp and rabbit and fox – and even figures he recognised from the legends and tales he read in the past months – Kaguya-hime and Tsunade-sama and Suzume-sama and Otohime-sama.

When he asked Shunsui why there were no male legendary figures being presented, the Captain laughed and told him that porcelain fans were wielded only by women.

Then he was dragged down the maze again, this time to a shop selling fans made with metal ribs. The paintings were different here: there were still plants, but mostly bamboo and pine; there were still animals, but wolves and tigers and snakes and toads; and the legendary figures were different as well, images of Jiraiya and Kintarou and Momotarou and Susano’o decorating the heavy fans that Shunsui told him could be used in battle. _Tessenjutsu_ – the technique of fighting with a fan – were used by women to defend themselves, and by men during times in which it would be impolite to carry a sword but too dangerous to go unarmed.

It was such a strange thing that Shinigami and plus souls and humans had such differences between the things worn by women and men. For Hollows, male and female were separated by their physical shapes and little else.

He was in the midst of considering the reason behind such differences when Shunsui declared that he was hungry and dragged him back towards the roadside stands. Here, there was more types of food than Starrk had ever seen – grilled skewers of eel and livers and hearts and sweet potato and yam and a thousand different things; ramen sold in bars where people stood to eat; rice topped with furikake of all shades of the rainbow and then some. His senses – heightened ever since his battle with his wolves – were assaulted from all fronts, and he allowed Shunsui to choose what to buy. 

Which, of course, meant that Shunsui bought a little bit of everything.

They returned to the same copse of trees they had started out at. Starrk stood there, his hands shoved into his pockets, and stared up to the skies. It was streaked with reds and oranges and pinks from the approaching sunset, and he realised, suddenly, that they had spent the entire afternoon already and he had not even noticed the passage of time.

Shunsui handed him a skewer full of grilled and mildly-salted meat, and Starrk started eating absentmindedly. One of the strange things about having his Hollow hole healed over was that he needed to eat _food_ now, instead of souls. He didn’t question the reason why, too glad that such things could sustain him and that he wouldn’t eat souls by accident when he was too hungry to look a gift horse in the house.

“So how do you find Junrinan?” Shunsui asked. Starrk blinked, looking around him for a moment before he realised that Shunsui had sat down beneath a large tree while he was thinking.

“There’s so much of the world I still don’t know and have not seen,” he murmured, walking over to sit as well.

Shunsui smiled at him around the sides of his own skewer. “Well,” he said when he swallowed. “I’ve only shown you the tip of the iceberg. There’s so much more out there.”

“I know,” Starrk nodded. “But…”

“But?”

“I’ve spent so much time in Hueco Mundo, staring at nothingness,” he said, looking away. “I wasn’t even aware that there was so much to discover just one Garganta away.”

Reaching out, Shunsui squeezed his shoulder with a hand. “You have plenty of time to learn and discover now,” he pointed out quietly. “There’s no need to regret about the past.”

Starrk wanted to protest; wanted to say that surely he didn’t have all the time in the world, not in Soul Society. Surely at some point the Shinigami would look at him and realised that he was a Hollow, a _threat_ , and…

No, he decided. No, there was no use in letting himself spiral down such darkness. He had been accepted as one of them by the Captain-Commander. And, more important, he knew that he had a space to belong here, right beside Shunsui.  
 _  
It won’t last,_ a soft insinuating voice whispered in his mind, sounding like Aizen. _How long do you think you have until he tires of you?_

He had no answer for that.

_You do_ , another voice told him, irritation clear and sounding incredibly like Lilynette. _You know. You just have to think about it._

“Starrk?” 

He blinked open his eyes. “Mm?”

“Your food is going to get cold if you don’t eat it,” the Captain said.

Starting to eat again, Starrk kept his gaze on Shunsui, thinking over what that second voice had said. He let his hand drop back to the side while he ran through everything that had happened to day; everything that Shunsui had shown him, whether about Junrinan or about himself.

Shunsui had brought him out here, past the gate where he learned that he had some form of acceptance within the world he had already accepted as his own; here, to this District, where he had shown him wonders when he could have had left Starrk back in Seireitei where he would have never known anything more than the gleaming white streets.

If there was one thing Starrk knew about manipulation, it was in showing only the briefest glimpses of the truth. He had broken past some of the chains that Aizen had laid upon him when he gained knowledge of his own; when he realised that there were shadows in between every word and cleared them away by himself.

There were no shadows in Shunsui’s eyes. Not even now, when Starrk was staring at him for long enough to gain suspicion. There was only… a gentle sort of joy whenever Starrk had exclaimed or gaped at something beautiful he had never seen before.

_I do it because there is nothing that makes me happier than to make you happy,_ Shunsui once told him.

Turning away, Starrk closed his eyes. There was still a part of him that was unbelieving; that simply cannot believe that there was nothing that could be given to him without there being something he had to give in return. But Starrk was tired of that voice; tired of the weight of the chains that Aizen had laid upon him; tired of being dogged by Aizen’s ghost with every step, by everything that the man had told him and which he used to believe in so wholeheartedly. 

If he could accept that all the stories he had been told were all distorted lies, then why couldn’t he accept that the most fundamental rule of Las Noches did not apply to the world as a whole?

If he could do something without asking for anything in return, then why couldn’t Shunsui? Why couldn’t any Shinigami? Why couldn’t _anyone_?

The world framed in terms of debt was one full of shadows where threats could leap in any any moment to crush him or eat him whole. It was one that was grey and faded, for the clarity of any action was veiled by thoughts of what he had to do in return; by all that would be taken for him to pay the price. 

He had seen brightness and beauty today. And it sickened him towards this grey, shadowed, faded world. 

Letting out a breath, he opened his eyes without knowing when he had closed them. He turned towards Shunsui.

The Captain blinked when he recognised the weight of Starrk’s gaze, and he opened his mouth, most likely to ask if he was alright.

There were no words Starrk wished to say. Words were hollow, fragile things, fading into nothingness after a while. They couldn’t contain this strange heat within his chest.

So he leaned forward and captured those parted lips into a kiss. Shunsui stiffened slightly, his hands coming up to close around Starrk’s arm. But Starrk only leaned in even closer, trying to show him that his actions was not driven by thoughts of repayment or debt; trying to make him feel the strength of the desire in his chest.

Tried to show him that he did this for no reason than simply _wanting to_.

Slowly, achingly slowly, Shunsui relaxed. He tipped his head up, parting his lips further. Starrk shifted, knees sliding over grass as he cupped Shunsui’s face with both hands, kneeling above him as he deepened the kiss.

Despite the warmth of his mouth, Shunsui tasted the cool, pure waters, bubbling in a small spring that came straight from the frozen summits of mountains.

“Much as I liked that,” Shunsui murmured when they paused to catch a breath, “What is this about, Starrk?”

Half-lidding his eyes, Starrk traced his fingers over the side of Shunsui’s face.

“You told me that you want nothing from me but my presence,” he reminded softly. When Shunsui tensed beneath him, he stroked his thumbs in circles around the temples, right beside the hairline. “You told me that it makes you happy when I am.

“Do you still mean that?”

Shunsui’s eyes were wide. This close, Starrk could see the multitudes of emotions flickering through them, appearing as a series of colours like light through a prism.

“Yes,” he said finally, his voice so soft that it was barely a breath across Starrk’s lips. “Yes, of course I still mean it.”

Starrk smiled, wavering at the edges. “I think… I can believe you now.” His every word ghosted over Shunsui’s lips, like a light tease. “It was on the in the look in your eyes today.”

Shunsui blinked, opening his mouth to speak. But Starrk had to continue, so he pressed his fingers on those lips.

“I believe that you want nothing from me except for what I am willing to give,” he murmured. “And I…”

He took a deep breath, and leapt into the abyss.

“I’m willing to give you everything.”

The next words rushed out of him. “I don’t want to give myself to you because there is nothing else I can give to repay the debt I owe,” he said, meaning every word. “I don’t want to do it because I think you deserve it after all you have done.

“I’m offering this out of my own desire, Shunsui. Because it’s _you_.”

The words weren’t enough, ill-fitting over all that he felt. But Shunsui seemed to understand, nonetheless, because he smiled. 

It was small, barely an upward curve of the lips, but its beauty far exceeded the dolls and kimono and cloth and pottery and paintings and everything else he had seen that day.  
 _  
_Shunsui’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him close until Starrk was practically straddling his lap. He didn’t move away, instead leaning in even further until their foreheads touched.

Fingers brushed through his hair. “The look in my eyes?” Shunsui asked, a slight teasing note in his voice. “Dare I ask what that means?”

“It’s everything,” Starrk answered, chuckling. He knew that it was entirely unhelpful, but it was the most honest answer he could give.

The sun had came out behind his eyes, chasing away the shadows and letting him truly _see_. From the very first time when Shunsui came to him after his battle with Aizen; to giving him free reign of his personal library after Starrk learned how to read; to the countless times Shunsui had defended him in front of the other Captains; to his easy acceptance no matter what Starrk or Lilynette became… Shunsui had done all of it without any possibility of reward or reciprocation; done it for a man who had absolutely nothing to give in return except for himself, and he had not even asked for that.

It had always been there, the sincerity shining in Shunsui’s grey-blue eyes.

He kissed him again, deep and slow, their chest pressed so close together that he could feel every breath.

“We’re going to finish eating,” Shunsui murmured, words half-muffled by Starrk’s mouth. “Then I’m going to bring you back to the Eighth, and fulfil my promises.”  
 _  
I will make love to you over weeks. I will touch you until every curve of your body is engraved on my fingertips. I will kiss you until your taste will linger on my tongue for decades. I will scour the memory of every pain, every tear in your heart, and replace it with pleasure alone.  
_  
Starrk trembled even as he laughed, his fingers tightening on Shunsui’s shoulders.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said.

***

Shunsui tried his very best to not practically inhale his food, but he couldn’t stop himself from rushing back to the Eighth in _shunpo_ , leaping over high white walls. Starrk’s wrist was wrapped around his hand, and the feel of his pulse – half-calm, rapidly picking up speed – sank into Shunsui’s bones and made his own blood rush even faster in his veins.

When they nearly stumbled to a stop outside his Captain’s quarters, Shunsui was practically trembling with nervousness and aching with sheer _want.  
_  
Stepping through the doors, he turned around and pinned Starrk against the wood. Starrk chuckled, the sound trembling against Shunsui’s lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the feel because it assured him that it was _real_. That this wasn’t one of his fantasies.

And he had them. Oh, he had so many of them. He had plotted every move he might make once Starrk understood what he had been trying to show him since that one autumn day long ago. But he knew all too well that any plan he made might just fall into absolute pieces; that one wrong move, one mistake, would shatter that fragile trust that Starrk was holding out to him.

After all, this was one man he never learned how to read, much less fully predict.

Closing his eyes, he let their lips part. He exhaled, shuddering, his hands practically clawing on Starrk’s shoulders.

In his thousand years of living, there had never been someone who had made him felt this way or want this much. He had no experiences to drawn upon, for though he had loved before, he had never pursued it to this extent; had never allowed his heartstrings to wrap themselves or knot so tightly around anyone else. 

He would have to make everything up as he went along, and he had never been so uncertain, so _afraid_.

“Hey,” Starrk said, his voice breaking through Shunsui’s whirling thoughts. “Shunsui, look at me.”

Slowly, he opened his eyes, meeting the calm grey-blue gaze with his own. How was it that Starrk was so much calmer than he was?

“You don’t have to make everything perfect,” Starrk told him, lips crooked into a lopsided smile. “You told me _weeks_ , remember?”

Just with those few words, the air came easier into his lungs, and he could breathe again.

“It’s really unfair that you can read me so well when I can’t do the same to you,” he complained, barely managing to insert the teasing note in his voice.

Starrk chuckled again. His hands were warm in Shunsui’s hair, tugging loose the tie that kept it bound.

“Let me level the playing field, then,” he murmured. “All I want is for you to make it real, Shunsui. Nothing more than that.”

_Make it real_.

Unbidden, Shunsui found himself smiling. “Real,” he breathed. More than words, more than promises, all Starrk needed from him was some sort of proof that all that he said was real; that he truly felt what he said he did.

He laughed. “That’s easy enough.”

Shunsui’s emotions were a weight deep inside him, heavy threads twining around his heart that were filled with endless, unbreakable knots that reached out to every single part of him. There was nothing he had done or could do without tugging on those very threads; without proving what he said to be real.

It was _Starrk he_ couldn’t help worry about, for a part of him still couldn’t believe that this was real; that Starrk’s warmth beneath his fingers was not another fantasy conjured up by his fevered mind.

He let out a breath. So they wanted the same thing after all.

Closing his eyes, he leaned into Starrk. His hands drifted down past shoulders and arms to wrap around the restraints, finger slipping beneath stone and slide a nail against the fragile-seeming bones right underneath.

“Come to bed with me.”

Starrk’s breath ghosted over him. “Yes.”

They moved together in _shunpo_ and _sonido_ without breaking apart. Shunsui managed to turn them around right as they stopped right beside the big bed. The thing, unrepentantly Western in style, was brought in from the Living World a few years ago, when Shunsui had given into his love of luxury and the wide space given to him for his quarters.

He allowed the brief memories to wash over him as he gently laid Starrk down onto the sheets. It calmed him down, slowed his heart in his chest where it was trying to beat its way out. When he felt his knees touch the mattress, when Starrk’s body landed with a soft _thump_ , Shunsui finally opened his eyes.

“I’ve thought about this day a thousand times,” he murmured, tilting his head to kiss Starrk on the jaw. Tiny kisses from below to the ear to the neck, then curving towards the collarbone, light as a breeze. 

“I hope that I don’t disappoint, then,” Starrk said, and Shunsui stilled entirely at the brief, half-hidden note of uncertainty in his voice.

He lifted his head. “Don’t worry about that,” he breathed out, fingers brushing lightly over those grey-blue eyes. “What I want from you is the same as what you asked of me, Starrk. Nothing but for this to be real. Don’t try to fake anything just to try to please me.”

A brief look of disbelief crossed Starrk’s face. Shunsui could say it; could tell Starrk that just having him in his bed was enough.

But words, hollow and empty, could only go so far. So he simply smiled, sliding a hand into Starrk’s hair and kissed him; swept his tongue over Starrk’s mouth and devoured the summer-sweetness inside. The taste was lighter, cleaner, along the teeth before deepening along the palate and tongue, and Shunsui mapped this new territory with lips and tongue, his hand cupping the back of Starrk’s neck and felt his staccato pulse right above the nape.

“Can I undress you?” he asked.

Starrk took a breath, stole it right from Shunsui’s lungs. His chest shuddered beneath Shunsui’s hand. 

“Yes,” he whispered in a voice that could barely be heard.

Slowly, carefully, without breaking the contact of their lips, Shunsui hooked his fingers over the scarf. Starrk tipped his neck back, and Shunsui could feel the ridge of his spine for a moment while he pulled off the cloth and tossed it over the side of the bed. Then, with the same deliberateness, he splayed his hand over Starrk’s chest, right on top of where cloth covered the healed-over Hollow hole, before sliding downwards to tug the sash loose.

The kimono was wrapped tightly enough that it didn’t fall apart.

“Sit up a little?”

There was a soft sound, a shuddering breath. Starrk nodded. “You’ll have to get off of me first, though,” he said. 

“But I don’t want to,” Shunsui whined automatically even as he leaned back, giving the other man space. 

Starrk blinked at him for a moment, as if uncertain of what he had just heard. Shunsui grinned at him, reaching out and brushing the back of his hand over Starrk’s cheek. _We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to_ , he wanted to say, but surely Starrk already knew that, and saying such a thing wouldn’t help.

He would just have to lighten the mood to chase the lingering ghosts away.

After a moment, Starrk laughed. He sat up, sliding his arms out of the voluminous sleeves of the kimono before shrugging it off and letting it pool around the sheets on his waist. There was the faintest hint of a flush on his face, completely unresistible, so Shunsui leaned it and pressed his mouth against the heated skin.

Callused fingertips ghosted over Starrk’s chest, thumb stroking over the scar that Shunsui himself had left. It was a large thing, stretching from the edge of a shoulder down to the opposite hip, crossing right over Starrk’s chest and bisecting the Hollow hole. It was long-healed, smooth to the touch with bumpy ridges like the edges of a well-trodden road.

“Please don’t apologise for that,” Starrk said.

“I wasn’t going to,” Shunsui replied, meaning it. There was no point in apologising about the deeds of war.

Sometimes Shunsui found himself almost thankful. Not for the war – of course not, for he was not such a fool as that – but for the battle and the pieces of fate that came together such that _he_ was the one who faced Starrk instead of any other Captain. He had wondered, of course, how things would’ve gone if he wasn’t the one who faced this man; if he hadn’t dealt that almost-critical wound that had sent Starrk crashing from the battlefield and allowed him to live long enough to resist against Aizen in the end. 

“I’m simply glad that I didn’t kill you with it,” he said, quirking a smile. “My life would be so much less interesting if I did.”

Before Starrk could reply, he slid his hands over the man’s back down into the folds of the kimono, fingers brushing over the curve of his ass. He followed the curves of the pelvic bone to the front and loosened the laces of the hakama, careful to not touch too much. 

“Lift your hips up?”

Starrk looked at him, eyes unscrutable, before he nodded. His head dropped onto Shunsui’s shoulder, breath skittering over his collarbone, before he obeyed, and Shunsui slipped off the kimono to leave him completely bare.

“No underwear?” Shunsui teased, amused despite the situation.

The flush on Starrk’s face darkened. “I never saw the point,” he said, and Shunsui had to kiss him again.

“I suppose not.”

There was skin, warm skin, for him to touch. His fingers couldn’t resist, lifting up to dance over Starrk’s hairline, trailing down towards his jaw. When he felt that tiny hitch of a breath, he leaned in and kissed the Adam’s apple there, feeling Starrk’s thundering pulse beneath his lips.

“Relax,” he murmured. “We’re in no hurry, alright?”

He waited until he could feel Starrk nod; until the rapid breathing eased into something far more natural. Then he slid downwards, teasingly brushing his stubble over Starrk’s skin. The uncertain, burbling laughter that escaped from Starrk’s throat was caught by his fingers hovering over his lips, and Shunsui grinned to himself as he littered tiny kisses on the long scar.

When he reached the reddened, raised skin of the Hollow hole, Starrk made a sound that Shunsui had never once heard in the entire time he was alive.

Blinking, he raised his head. Starrk was staring at him, eyes wide, the knuckles of one hand practically shoved into his mouth. Shunsui reached out, tugging it away, kissing the abused flesh before he lowered his mouth to the edge of the hole again. This time, he darted out his tongue.

The moment he touched skin, Starrk’s hips jerked upwards, nearly slamming into him. A strangled cry escaped him, and the red of his cheeks spread towards his chest.

Perhaps the strongest fault Shunsui had was his curiosity. If he was a cat, he would have lost all nine lives by now. 

He wanted to know the kind of noises Starrk could make with just a touch like this. 

So he straddled Starrk, legs spreading around his hips, before he held him down with a gentle grip on his shoulders and _licked_.

Starrk threw his head back, gasping desperately for air. He was biting onto a lip, his arms raising to his face to hide himself as he shuddered in time with every dart of Shunsui’s tongue. When Shunsui rubbed his fingers over the raised edges of the healed wound, deliberately letting the rough, callused tips stroke over the ridges, Starrk arched his back almost strong enough to throw him off.

The sound that came out of him could only be described as a strangled scream. His reiatsu rose, struggling out of the confines of the restraints.

“ _Shunsui_ ,” he gasped. “I… If you keep doing that I’m going to-”

He didn’t get to finish, because Shunsui was kissing him. His hand splayed right over Starrk’s chest, curling forward and dragging his nails lightly down Starrk’s skin. His hand hovered right over the centre of the wound, and he pressed his thumb right against it.

Starrk’s hands clamped down on his shoulders, his thighs around Shunsui’s hips. Reiatsu washed over him, hot like desert sands, tasting of sunlight on Shunsui’s tongue, and the stone on Starrk’s wrists vibrated minutely from the pressure.

And Shunsui hadn’t even touched him below the waist.

There was sweat plastering Starrk’s hair to his face. He was panting hard, eyes squeezed shut, and Shunsui kissed him against even as he fought to loosen the laces of his own hakama. He kicked it off before pulling away his kimono and underwear until he was naked as well, skin to skin with Starrk as he leaned their foreheads together and breathed in those shuddering breaths, locking their heat deep within his lungs.

“I’ve never,” Starrk began. He shook his head hard before he opened his eyes.

“That… that part has always been sensitive,” he said, licking his lips. “But I’ve never… it has never felt so _good_.”

A shadow crossed his eyes, and Shunsui knew exactly the kind of memories were threatening; exactly who Starrk was beginning to think about. Shunsui’s eyes narrowed, and he cupped Starrk’s face, careful to keep his grip gentle despite the roaring possessiveness that ignited within him.

“Don’t think about him,” he said firmly. “Look at me. Focus on _me_.”

Slowly, like clouds moving across the skies on a slow, windless day, the shadow cleared away. It left a pair of eyes still hazed with pleasure, but that… that, Shunsui _revelled_ in.

“Should I keep going?”

Starrk blinked at him, surprise and confusion so clear even with his pupils dilated. Shunsui knew the reason – this close, Starrk surely couldn’t help but feel the heat and hardness of Shunsui’s own erection, pressing against his hip and stomach.

“What about you?” he asked, licking his lips.

“I can wait,” Shunsui told him, smiling crookedly. His fingers slid through Starrk’s hair, gently urging him until their eyes met, and he poured every inch of love he felt into that gaze.

He might be frustrated, he might be near trembling with the need to take this man and _have_ him, but he would wait if Starrk wanted him to. He would wait minutes or hours or even days and weeks.

Starrk looked at him for a long moment before he swallowed, his hips raising slightly. “No,” he said finally. “I don’t… I don’t want you to wait.”

The way he smiled at him, soft and bright at the edges, killed all the questions in Shunsui’s throat. He tipped his head down and ghosted his lips over Starrk’s.

“Alright. Just… hold on a little.”

With that, he pulled away, heading towards his nightstand. He practically yanked the bottom drawer out to find what he needed; what he bought weeks ago out of hope. He popped the cork out of the glass vial of oil, letting the scent of pine fill the air. Pouring it out and rubbing his fingers to coat them fully, Shunsui finally turned.

Starrk reached out towards him with a hand, fingers half-curled, before he spread his legs open.

In that second, Shunsui doubted that he would be able to wake up the next morning. Starrk was going to _kill_ him.

He was so glad he didn’t have to wait.

And he practically lunged across the bed again, pinning Starrk to the mattress and kissing him hard. He let himself indulge in Starrk’s taste only for a few moments before he moved downwards, back to his chest, licking up the droplets of drying white. Although most of Starrk’s come had decorated Shunsui’s already-discarded hakama and kimono, there were still remnants on his skin, and Shunsui took advantage of that as excuse to make him shiver all over again.

Turning his head, he pressed a kiss against the juncture of Starrk’s hip and his thigh before he gently pressed a single finger inside.

A soft gasp escaped Starrk, and his hips jerked, forward and back, as if he wasn’t sure as if to flinch away or thrust forward. Shunsui pressed a gentle hand on his thigh, fingers tracing nonsensical shapes, trying to calm.

“So that’s what the oil is for,” Starrk murmured. “I never knew.”

Shunsui froze. He kept his finger gentle, slowly thrusting in and out, even as he leaned down and took Starrk’s awakening erection into his mouth. He let the scent of him – sea-salt and bitterness and an undefinable sweetness underneath – and the taste and weight of him to anchor himself. To not stand up and rush towards the First Division to kill Aizen while unclothed and with his bare hands.

Starrk’s hand carded through his hair, nails sliding over Shunsui’s scalp.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said softly. “It’s over now, and I’m focusing on you.”

Pulling his head back slightly, he licked Starrk from base to tip, cleaning off the last drops of come. Then he turned his head, taking Starrk’s hand and turning it around. Keeping his gaze on Starrk, he nipped the gothic Primera tattoo, letting his teeth skim over the edges where ink stained skin.

_I won’t let you think about him ever again_ , he wanted to say. _I’ll rid you of every memory you have of his hands on you. I’ll make it so that every time you look at yourself, you’ll think of me, and only me._

He swallowed the words because he knew he would be going too far by speaking them; that instead of making Starrk forget, he would only remind with his possessiveness.

Instead, he licked at the callused-yet-smooth fingertips, sucking on them even as he pressed two fingers inside Starrk.

But Starrk seemed to know what he was thinking about anyway, because he kept his eyes on Shunsui even as he arched his back slightly, thrusting towards those fingers. His thumb brushed over the edges of Shunsui’s mouth.

“Only you, Shunsui,” he whispered. “I’m thinking of no one else.”

_So don’t think about him anymore_ , Shunsui could hear hovering in the air. He closed his eyes, and nodded.

“More?” he asked.

Starrk shifted on the bed, pushing himself upwards and sliding his free hand into Shunsui’s hair. He pulled off the tie completely before carding his hands through the strands.

“Mm.”

And Shunsui gave it to him. Three fingers pushing inside even as he cupped the back of Starrk’s neck and kissed him. He pushed his tongue inside his mouth, and, this time, he didn’t explore. This time, he _claimed_ , kissing Starrk hard even as he crooked his fingers, searching for that spot inside. 

When Starrk trembled and gave him a shuddering gasp, he let go of his neck, scraping his fingers down his chest, deliberately scratching his nails over the Hollow hole.

“Shunsui!”

Starrk’s voice, wrapped around his name and heavy with want, was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

“Don’t wait anymore,” the words tumbled from Starrk’s mouth, and Shunsui was a cruel bastard, because if he could still speak, then…

He twisted his fingers deep inside.

“Ahh!”

_Mine_ , Shunsui thought, vicious and possessive. _Mine_.

Grey-blue eyes caught his as Starrk’s fingers tightened on his jaw, tugging his head up until their eyes met.

“If you want to make me yours, Shunsui,” he panted out. “Then just _take me_ already.”

There was so much _want_ in Starrk’s eyes that Shunsui’s head was left spinning. He squeezed his own shut, leaning in and crushing their mouths together, greedily taking in the tremulous cry Starrk gave him when he thrust his fingers straight against his prostate.

“I’m thinking if I want to make you come again first,” he said.

Starrk’s ragged breath was right against Shunsui’s ear, and every gust of air was heavy with want and need and pleasure that Shunsui made him feel.

“I want-” Starrk said, and he breathed in hard. “I want to come again when you’re inside me.”

His teeth grazed Shunsui’s ear.

“ _Taichou-san_.”

If Shunsui had to explain what the sound of that almost-nickname in _that_ voice had done to him, he couldn’t. There were no words for the way his insides twisted, or how his nerves screamed at him, and he slammed his mouth into Starrk’s again even as he thrust his fingers inside before slipping them out entirely.

The disappointed sigh Starrk made was engraved deep inside him.

He leaned over and took the vial of oil from the nightstand again, slicking up his hand then his own cock. Then, before Starrk could lie back onto the bed, Shunsui wrapped his arm around his chest, pulling him back up, barely remembering at the last second to be _gentle_.

“If you want it so badly, Starrk,” Shunsui growled, his eyes narrowed upon the other man. “Then have it.”

Starrk blinked at him. Arousal was chased away by confusion, and he cocked his head slightly to the side. Shunsui understood, then, that Aizen had never done this with him. Had never allowed him this much control whenever he took Starrk.

Good.

His hands wrapped around Starrk’s hips, urging him upwards. Starrk was still staring at him even as he shifted them until Starrk was straddling him, ass barely an inch above Shunsui’s cock.

“Like this,” he murmured, leaning in and kissing the corner of Starrk’s mouth. “I’ll be taking you, Starrk, but you’ll be taking me as well. You control how fast, how deep… everything that you want.”

He stroked the back of his hand over Starrk’s cheek.

“I’ll follow your lead.”

There was a long moment when Starrk did nothing except stare at him. Shunsui waited; waited with his eyes open and his jaw loose despite how much he wanted to grit his teeth and hiss if only to alleviate some of the aching, burning need he felt inside him.

Slowly, Starrk reached out towards him. His hands trailed over Shunsui’s face, fingertips sliding from forehead down to jaw before his thumb rubbed over the stubble there.

“Okay,” he breathed out. “Okay.”

He bit his lip, and Shunsui kept his hand on Starrk’s hips, tightening his grip just slightly when he felt a hand wrap around his cock. He gave into the need to close his eyes when Starrk slid down on him, his heat enveloping Shunsui, reiatsu making the air shiver and heat up around them.

When Starrk’s hips was flushed against him, the sounds of their strangled pants filled the room.

Shunsui let his hands glide downwards, resting above Starrk’s broad thighs. “Use your knees,” he said, forcing the words out of a closed throat. “And your thighs. Lift your hips up, then sink down on me.”

_Now_ , he wanted to say. _Do it now_.

A breath in, then out, all hissed through his teeth. “Any time you want.”

Starrk’s breath drifted over his neck, and the stone restraints clicking as they met behind Shunsui’s neck. Slowly, torturously slow, Starrk pushed himself upwards and sank back down.

He made a noise, almost like disappointment.

“Let me move you?” Shunsui asked. He forced his eyes to remain closed, because he needed to have control right now. “Just a little bit, Starrk.”

“Okay,” Starrk panted in his ear. “I… okay.”

Deliberately, broadcasting his every move, Shunsui shifted Starrk on his lap. Just a change of angle while he turned his own hips… _there_.

The sharp inhale Starrk made told him that his aim was true.

Starrk’s fingers formed into claws, digging into the flesh of Shunsui’s back as he pushed himself up again. When he sank down, both of them cried out, Shunsui burying his face into Starrk’s neck to try to muffle the sound.

His hands twitched. He wanted to push Starrk down; wanted to slam into him and fuck him until he screamed; wanted to claim him and take him until he was all that Starrk could remember; wanted to make him feel good enough that he forgot his own name and remembered only Shunsui’s own.

But he only gritted his teeth even harder, stilling himself. _Patience_ , he reminded himself. He didn’t want to take by force; he wanted Starrk to give it to him, freely.

And Starrk was. Slowly, with hesitating, uncertain movement, moving up and down Shunsui’s cock. Letting it nearly slip out of him before he sank down. He was gasping with every movement, his thighs trembling beneath Shunsui’s hand, and Shunsui kissed him blindly, lips skittering across Starrk’s cheek before he found his mouth and swallowed down the sounds.

God, this was…. There were no words for it, no way to explain except in the way he was losing control of his own reiatsu. It was rising, meeting Starrk’s in the air around them, clashing and melding with every up-down thrust of Starrk’s hips.

“ _Shunsui_ ,” Starrk said, voice strangled. “Shunsui, I…”

Forcing his eyes open, he met Starrk’s. The grey-blue colour was almost gone, reduced to a thin rim around those dark, dark pupils. Starrk’s cheeks were flushed red, his tanned skin glowing, and his hands clawed at Shunsui’s shoulders as he asked for something that he clearly didn’t know how to vocalise.

“Starrk,” Shunsui whispered, leaning in to take a long breath of Starrk’s scent. “Can I… will you let me push you down to the mattress and fuck you into it until you scream my name?”

The full-body shiver that Starrk gave him should be answer enough, but Shunsui still waited.

“Yes,” Starrk said finally. “Yes. Yes, do it. Yes. _Please_.”

It was all the permission that Shunsui needed. It was all that he was waiting for.

Holding onto Starrk’s shoulder with one hand, he pushed the other man down onto the sheets. At the same time, he gripped onto an ankle with the other hand, wrapped the leg around his own waist. Starrk cried out, throwing his head back as his back hit the mattress and Shunsui’s cock _twisted_ inside him, stroking right over his prostate. His muscles clenched, clamping down around Shunsui’s cock, and it was only long years of control that stopped Shunsui from coming right then.

He was damnably close already. 

Sucking air in so hard that it pierced against his throat, Shunsui rested his forehead against Starrk’s. He drew his hips back and thrust in again, shallow and slow, and Starrk _growled_ at him, nails scraping down Shunsui’s back, almost hard enough to draw blood.

“I’m not going to break, Shunsui,” he said, words annoyingly coherent. “So just… just _fuck me_ already.”

Shunsui closed his eyes.

“Yes.”

The tight control he had within himself began to unravel. Shunsui forgot to breathe, forgot to do anything else other than the in-out thrusts of his hips, driving into Starrk’s heat and tightness. His hand clenched the sheets, the other splayed over Starrk’s chest, fingertips digging into the edges of the Hollow hole as Starrk’s hips rose to meet his with every slam inside.

“Starrk,” Shunsui breathed, taking in the sight of him: dark eyes wide, lips red and swollen from kisses and bites and wet with every breath, tanned skin flushed red with arousal and pleasure and need. “ _Starrk._ ”

“Shunsui,” Starrk gasped. He arched, legs tightening even further around Shunsui’s waist. His reiatsu made the air tremble with sheer force, heat crackling in the air like lightning. “ _Shunsui_. Harder!”

He obliged, obeyed, crashing his mouth into Starrk’s. It wasn’t a kiss, too harsh and uncoordinated, their lips parted as they drew in each other’s heat and air.

Starrk called his name again, demanding and harsh. Fingers dug into Shunsui’s hair, tugging on the long strands, and Shunsui forced open his eyes. 

“You said you wanted to make me yours,” Starrk hissed, his words half-mangled but still _there_. “You said that you’re going to drive the thoughts of anyone else from my head.”

Then, before Shunsui could recover his equilibrium enough to even think of a reply, Starrk smiled. It was a soft, gentle thing.

“Come on, Shunsui. I’m not going to break. Just _take_ me already.”

Shunsui let his eyes fall close. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he counted the beats to calm himself, trying to not shake. This… this was everything he wanted and more, so much more. This was more than permission.

His hands dropped down, grabbing onto Starrk’s ankles. And he shoved Starrk’s legs up, forcing knees and shoulders to meet before he thrust into him. 

When Starrk gasped his name, Shunsui heard it. _Yours_ , Starrk was saying with every syllable. _Yours, yours, yours, always yours_.

Shunsui took what was freely and willingly offered. Breathed in the moans and let the sound write itself indelibly in his lungs. A mantra ran in his head in reply, an endless litany of _mine, mine, mine, always mine,_ that formed itself into Starrk’s name when it escaped his throat.

So close.

He let go of Starrk’s legs, both hands reaching down. One slammed over Starrk’s chest, over his Hollow hole, thumb stroking and digging into the healed-over flesh. The other wrapped into a fist around Starrk’s cock, pumping him with the force of every thrust. And he kissed Starrk, laid his mouth over him, catching every sound he made, owning them, possessing them.

As he was given. As was his right.

Starrk came, and the room itself roared with him. Reiatsu burst out, searingly blue even behind Shunsui’s squeezed-shut eyelids. It screamed into the air before sinking down, curling around Shunsui, sliding over his skin like a thousand fingers stroking, caressing, warming ad burning him as if he was rolling around a sea of heat.

Shunsui barely noticed when Starrk clamped down on him. His hips moved without his mind, thrusting forward, and he came deep inside Starrk while yelling the man’s name. His own reiatsu flared outwards, both clashing and melding with Starrk’s, and when he forced open his eyes he saw the light shatter into a million pieces, bursting into myriad of colours he had no names for, showering around the two of them.

It was more beautiful than any fireworks show he had ever seen.

And he slumped down, breathing hard. Starrk’s scent surrounded him, heavy with salt, and strong, lean arms wrapped around his shoulders.

When he felt stone against his skin, he heard, as if from a great distance, a loud _crack_.

He ignored it. There was no reiatsu except theirs in the room, so it wasn’t an intruder. And even if Nanao-chan walked in right now, Shunsui wouldn’t be able to bring himself to care.

But Starrk was tapping his fingers on his neck, right at the knob of his spine. His shoulders were shaking. Shunsui blinked, lifting his head.

Instead of the tears he expected, Starrk was _grinning,_ wide and… sheepish?

He brought his hands forward, and Shunsui stared. On his wrists, the restraints that were meant to hold someone with twice as much power as a Captain, were broken. The hinge on the right, the one carrying the symbol of the Eighth, was snapped jaggedly into two. The other, the one with the Thirteenth’s symbol, had the same line, except it was somehow still holding on.

Shunsui poked them. At his touch, the right bracelet fell off, landing with a soft, anticlimactic _thud_ on the sheets.

They turned to it, then back at each other. Shunsui’s lips twitched, and he could see that Starrk was trying to not laugh. Turning away from those eyes – still dark, pupils still blown – he picked up the fallen accessory.

“Well,” he said.

The first chuckle, Shunsui was proud to say, came from Starrk. It burbled out of him, clearly unwilling and uncontrolled, and Shunsui laid his head down onto Starrk’s collarbone. It was a mistake – like this, he could literally _feel_ Starrk’s stifled laughter; feel the way it rumbled in his ribs and shivered upwards to his throat.

He breathed through his teeth. This was a serious matter, he told himself. He would have to explain to Yama-jii just _how_ the restraints broke, and most likely would have to face a veritable inquisition from the Twelfth about it. The bracelets were made of pure _seki-seki_ , after all, and he had received quite a few smug reassurances from Kurotsuchi that it wouldn’t…

Oh, hell.

Shunsui burst out laughing. He buried his face into Starrk’s chest, laughing helplessly, and he knew that Starrk was laughing as well. The arm slung over his neck was shaking, and Starrk’s entire body was trembling with the force of his mirth.

Lifting his eyes, he caught sight of the smile on Starrk’s face; the way his eyes, the darkness slowly retreating to be replaced with that intrigued grey-blue shade he could never find an equivalent, danced… and he knew he was falling in love with him all over again.

He pushed himself out and kissed him.

“Next time,” Starrk said, his fingers ghosting over Shunsui’s cheeks, “we’re doing this with the restraints _off_.”

Shunsui couldn’t help the foolishly wide grin at the thought of _next time_. He knew that there would be; knew it when Starrk urged him on and looked at him and declared himself as Shunsui’s with every pleasure-tinged gasp and moan… but it was nice to have a confirmation.

“That’s a good idea, yes,” he said, still chuckling.

Shifting, he pulled out of Starrk, kissing him lightly when he winced a little. Both of them were filthy, covered with sweat and semen, but Shunsui ignored it, grabbing Starrk’s left wrist and starting to wriggle the remaining bracelet off.

“It’s a good thing that you don’t have to walk around in Seireitei with them on anymore,” he said, biting his lip slightly before he finally wrenched the stone open. He picked it up along with its twin and pushed both off the bed.

They landed on the wooden floorboards with a _thud_.

“How did you manage that anyway?” Starrk asked, sounding curious. 

Shunsui turned to him, blinking. Ah, right; despite all the time they had spent together today, he hadn’t told Starrk about that, had he?

He opened his mouth, about to answer, when Starrk drew a finger over the mess on his stomach. And all thoughts flew out of his head as he watched the man scoop up his own come and slipped his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them hard enough to cause shadows to fall across his cheeks.

“… I can’t answer you when you’re doing that,” he said, a littled dazed.

“Mm?” Starrk blinked at him, looking honestly confused. He popped the fingers out before he licked them from base to tip. His skin with saliva in the sinking sunlight.

“I mean,” Shunsui said, barely able to keep his voice steady. He reached out, pushing Starrk back onto the bed before he started cleaning off the skin of his stomach with his tongue. “You’re distracting.”

“Aren’t you being the same right now?” Starrk’s voice was heavy and breathy, and his thumb stroked over the curve of Shunsui’s ear. “Taichou-san.”

Raising his eyes, Shunsui cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not being very fair, Starrk- _san_ ,” he said. Though he tried to look reproachful, it was entirely ruined by the teasing tone of his voice.

Starrk snorted, rolling his eyes. “Neither are you, so I think we’re even that way,” he said.

Shunsui chuckled, turning his head and pressing a soft kiss on Starrk’s now-exposed wrist. Then he turned back to his original task, cleaning Starrk’s skin with his tongue and enjoying – perhaps a little too much – the way his muscles twitched and clenched with every dragging lick.

When he was done, Starrk was breathing hard, his eyes heavy-lidded. Shunsui crawled upwards, pressing their lips together. Slowly, Starrk opened his mouth, and they shared his taste together.

“You haven’t answered my question,” he murmured.

“Mm,” Shunsui said agreeably. “I’m trying to distract you and have as much of you as I can before I tell you.”

Starrk huffed, a breath of warm air against Shunsui’s chin. “I’m not going to be mad at you no matter what you say,” he told him, clearly activating his telepathy again.

Closing his eyes, Shunsui let those words sink into him. They eased a little of the tension inside him enough to begin talking.

So he told Starrk about Central Forty-Six, about their fear of the unknown that had not changed despite how all of them had been replaced; he told Starrk about the studies he had taken to learn about the Living World language that most resembled the Hollows’; he told Starrk about the discussions he had with Yama-jii and Ukitake and Retsu-senpai, and how they finally managed to craft an argument that bypassed all talks about faith and trust and stuck strictly to iron-clad law and considerations for the future.

“We gave Central Forty-Six a name for you and Lilynette,” he concluded finally. “ _Juntura_ , meaning…”

“Joint,” Starrk finished for him. “I don’t mind it.”

Shunsui blinked. Then he smiled, wry at the edges. “I thought you would be angry at our presumption,” he said.

Of all the reactions that Shunsui had expected, laughter was entirely unexpected. Starrk tugged on his still-loose hair, bringing a few strands to his mouth and kissing it lightly.

“I didn’t choose the term _Arrancar_ myself, you know,” he said, shrugging a little. “Besides… have you already forgotten what you told me? What I am is not the whole of me, Shunsui. If Central Forty-Six needs a name so that they fear us less, then… it’s a good name.”

Lips parting, Shunsui stared. He knew he probably looked foolish, mouth agape like that, but his mouth was more focused on Starrk’s words; on the way those grey-blue eyes were looking at him, small smile sweet and a little amused, as if he was laughing at Shunsui’s uncertainty.

Was it only a few weeks ago that Shunsui was complaining to Ukitake that he could barely touch Starrk without the man flinching?

He closed his eyes, leaning in and brushing his mouth over Starrk’s forehead. Then he moved downwards, trailing the line of his jaw with his lips until he reached his mouth.

“Thank you. For trusting me. For believing in my words.”

Starrk laughed again.

“You stole the words right out of my mouth.”

“Have I?”

“Weren’t you the one who first reached out to me?” Starrk’s smile was a small but brilliant thing, as if he had stolen the stars from the skies and woven their light into the curve of his lips. “You earned my trust, Shunsui, but you gave yours to me freely.”

Shunsui closed his eyes, huffing out a breath that was almost a laugh.

“I didn’t ocme to that decision entirely on my own, you know,” he informed Starrk, almost pouting. “Ukitake had to practically slap it into my head.”

Starrk hummed, accepting. “Mm, but you still did. So my point still stands.”

Cocking his head, Shunsui smirked. “Are we actually arguing over who to thank when it comes to this?”

“Maybe?” Starrk mirrored his pose. The back of his hand brushed Shunsui’s cheek. “Or is there something else we should be doing?”

Now that was an invitation if Shunsui had ever heard one. He laughed, gathering Starrk into his arms before he flipped the two of them over so he was the one on the bottom.

“Why don’t you tell me, Starrk- _san_?” Shunsui asked, rocking his hips upwards at the honourific.

It wasn’t fair, he knew. But Shunsui had never played fair; it was only good strategy, after all, to use all the resources he had on hand.

Starrk’s eyes darkened, and he leaned in until their noses brushed.

“That’ll be too boring,” he murmured. “Let me show you instead, taichou-san.”

As Starrk leaned in and captured his lips in a searing kiss, Shunsui hooked his leg over Starrk’s hip, pulled him down with his arm, and wrapped himself around the other man entirely.

_You’re mine_ , he whispered mentally, knowing that he sounded almost far too smug.

_Now let me show you that I’m yours as well_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene between Shunsui and Starrk took 21 chapters and over 150k words of buildup. Please tell me what you think?
> 
> The descriptions of Junrinan/Rukongai First District North is based on Kyoto, especially the area around the Arashiyama old districts, Chujoshima, and the road leading up towards Fushimi Inari. I tried my best to capture in those paragraphs the atmosphere I felt in those areas during my visits. Let me know if I succeeded?
> 
> Lastly, references. /takes a deep breath. 
> 
> Kaguya-hime is from _The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter and the Moon_ , Tsunade and Jiraiya is from _The Tale of Jiraiya the Gallant_ , Suzume-sama is from _The Tongue-Cut Sparrow_ , Kintarou is from _The Adventures of the Golden Boy_ , Susano’o is from a Shinto legend found in _Kojiki_ , and I’ve used Momotarou and Otohime before. Goldfish and carp are fish well-known for their beauty and how difficult they are to keep – usually analogous with well-bred noble women of samurai classes; rabbits are considered sweet and kind and are usually kept by those women as pets even in the Edo period; foxes in legend are always female. Wolves and tigers are images of masculinity carried over by the Chinese, while snakes and toads are associated with men due to _Jiraiya the Gallant_. Bamboo, pine, and plum are known as Sho-Chiku-Bai, with varied symbolism and used pretty much everywhere but especially associated with the educated samurai classes in the Edo period.
> 
> (Yes, Jiraiya, Tsunade, and Orochimaru from _Naruto_ are named after the figures of that particular legend. No, Susano’o is not just a Sharingan technique, but another legendary figure. He’s the one who killed Yamato-no-Orochi – the eight-headed, eight-tailed snake – and took Kusanagi from its corpse. Shounen manga – actually, manga in general – is so stuffed full of references to Japanese culture and symbolism that it’s so fun to try to pick all of them out. 
> 
> I know, I know, I’m a complete nerd.)


	22. Season's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neliel figures out a new path for Grimmjow, Kenpachi, and herself. Harribel plans for the future. Rukia makes a confession. Starrk performs an exorcism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** I actually have no idea what the term for two women having biological kids together, but, whatever it is, it happens here. No warning for the OC because he’s essentially a plot device right now.

Grimmjow was, of all things, up a tree when Neliel found him. She blinked, jumping up using _sonido_ to land on the thick branch beside him.

“What are you—” she began.

“Shhh,” Grimmjow hushed her, his eyes fixed on something beyond the rich green leaves that surrounded them. “Look.”

She followed his gaze into the Eleventh Division. The usual bloodthirsty and fight-hungry men were milling around, shouting at each other in voices that echoed in the air and made the trees shiver from sheer force; men who made up in spirit and loudness what they could not have in pure reiatsu. Men that Neliel could find it within herself to respect. 

But she still had no idea what Grimmjow was referring to. She was about to turn to him to ask when he made an impatient sound.

“Look at gate, Neliel.”

Her eyes flickered further southwards. And she saw it.

Zaraki was standing there, staring at an extremely familiar back walking away. Neliel blinked, and in that moment, she caught Unohana Retsu’s eyes as the woman looked upwards. She nodded both in greeting and assurance – the treatments Unohana had given her had fully repaired her mask, and it was in no more danger of breaking.

“Not _her_ ,” Grimmjow sighed. “Zaraki. Look at Zaraki.”

The game was getting tiring, and Neliel was about to force Grimmjow to simply _tell_ her what he was so fascinated by when she concentrated on Zaraki’s face.

Was that… was that confusion and the bare tracest of nervousness? Surely not; surely Zaraki wasn’t capable of such a thing, especially the latter. Nervousness was based upon fear, and a man like Zaraki Kenpachi had never shown himself to be afraid of anything.

… No, he wasn’t _afraid_ of Unohana. Neliel narrowed her eyes, watching even more carefully as Zaraki rubbed the back of his neck, finally turning away from the sight of Unohana’s back. She was suddenly sure that, if she could those dark eyes up close, they would be slightly closed, as if he was trying to dig something from his memory.

Now that was the answer to a question she had been pondering. Neliel’s lips slowly curled into a smile.

“So that’s who he is thinking about whenever he looks at me,” she said, amused.

Grimmjow threw a smirk at her. “You noticed, huh?”

Neliel only gave him an unimpressed look. Did Grimmjow truly think that she would miss something that _he_ had caught?

“That’s a stupid question, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she huffed, turning her eyes towards Zaraki again, head cocked to the side with absolute fascination.

Perhaps humans would feel jealousy at the thought of one of their lovers having such a strong interest in another; perhaps they would even feel used when they realised that they were a mere substitute. But Neliel wasn’t human, and there was a huge difference between wishing to go past the usual Hollow instincts of fight-fuck-eat and taking on undesirable, complicated human emotions.

Besides, she knew perfectly well that Zaraki wasn’t her lover; not in the way that humans meant the word. There was respect and attraction between them, certainly, but he was nothing more than an interesting diversion to her; a person she tried to know and discover just to spend her time. 

Hollows in their stage of evolution had time aplenty, and there were only so many repetitions of hunting-exploring-fucking one could do in Hueco Mundo before one was bored.

“What were you going to say before I interrupted you for entertainment?” Grimmjow jarred her out of her thoughts.

Neliel turned towards her mate. He was leaning against the tree, one eyebrow cocked and hips thrust outwards. Grimmjow always stood like he was extending an invitation, especially with the tight-fitting Living World clothes he preferred.

“Lilynette agreed to meet Harribel,” she replied, coming to stand on the air beside him

“Ch’,” Grimmjow said, obviously still annoyed that they had been roped into playing messenger. “Harribel’s so fucking stuck on the whole alliance thing.”

“It’s a good idea,” Neliel shrugged. “Besides, I don’t think that’s the only reason she wants to meet.”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

Neliel hesitated. No matter what the Shinigami thought, there was some sort of honour between Hollows, and that included not revealing crucial information to another without permission. 

More importantly, however, Neliel wasn’t even sure if her hunch was correct. It would be troublesome if she was wrong, because Grimmjow had the strange tendency to take everything she said to be the truth.

“I think…” she hummed under her breath. “It might be about one of her children.”

“Eh?” Grimmjow blinked. “You think that Harribel has kids?”

“She has three mates,” she pointed out. “And she _is_ older than both of us put together.”

It would be more of a surprise if she didn’t: Hollows who formed Packs were always looking to increase them, and the easier of the two ways to do so is to have children.

“Which means she probably has a whole bunch of them she never told us about,” Grimmjow thought out loud. He snorted. “Eh, I don’t blame her.”

A laugh startled out of her. Even with the mating bond giving them the – slight – ability to sense each other’s thoughts and emotions, Grimmjow still had the ability to surprise. She hadn’t expected him to take one of their allies – such an _odd_ word – keeping a secret from them so well.

She shook her head.

“Neither do I,” she said, meaning it. 

They might have all followed Aizen, but their trust in the Shinigami had always been a frayed, unstable thing. All of them agreed to follow his orders because he offered them something they wished for, something they hoped he would deliver after they had won the war against the Shinigami for him.

With such different purposes, how could they trust each other? If Harribel had told any of them about the existence of her children, she would lose the respect of them all simply because of the foolishness of doing so. 

“Oy,” Grimmjow prodded.

“Mm?”

“You want to keep staying up here to chase your thoughts in circles, or are we going to greet Zaraki?” he asked. 

“I’m only thinking because you never do,” she retorted. She let herself fall, landing on the balls of her feet in front of the Eleventh Division’s gates.

Grimmjow’s landing was noiseless next to hers. “Why should I think when you do it all for me?” he hissed at her even as they straightened.

Zaraki had turned the very moment they landed, but he wasn’t looking at them directly. His gaze was still fixed upon the point where Unohana had long disappeared.

Neliel stepped right in front of him. Reaching out, she dug her hand into his gelled hair and _pulled_ him down until his single uncovered eye was staring straight at her.

“If that is who you want, then you should go ahead and have her,” she said flatly.

Slowly, Zaraki blinked. He didn’t even look surprised at her presence.

“It’s not that I want,” he said.

“Really,” she drawled.

He jerked his head back, rubbing the back of his neck in that half-embarrassed gesture that was so unfitting for his skin. For long moments, it looked like he wasn’t going to speak, much less explain himself.

Neliel simply waited. She could feel Grimmjow standing a slight distance away, and knew that he was doing it on purpose. Her mate’s relationship with Zaraki was based on competition and rivalry; if he was the one who asked, Zaraki’s hackles would be up.

But Neliel knew that Zaraki saw her differently. She was a woman, and that meant _something_ to do the Shinigami, something that made him allow her liberties that he wouldn’t give anything else. Frankly, Neliel thought it was pure foolishness, especially since the differences between male and female Hollows were practically negligible, but she would be an even bigger fool to not take advantage of it.

“I met a woman when I was a kid,” Zaraki said finally. “And Unohana reminds me of her.”

She simply cocked her head.

“It’s fucking weird,” he continued. “She’s a healer, and though she’s not as much of a complete pansy as the rest, that’s no reason for me to be reminded of that woman.”

“What’s she like?” Neliel asked softly.

“The woman?”

She nodded.

“She’s the most bloodthirsty thing I’ve ever met,” Zaraki said, his eyes glazing over slightly in memory. “Gave me the best damned fight I’ve had in my life. Better than the one with Ichigo, better than the one I had with either of you.”

Grimmjow snorted, sounding almost insulted. Neliel sent him a warning glance before focusing back on Zaraki.

Crossing her arms, she made a soft contemplative noise under her breath.

“I’ve heard that Unohana is one of the oldest Captain in Soul Society,” she said quietly. That was true; there was plenty of things she heard while she was receiving treatment in the Fourth, because the Shinigami saw a child and disregarded her presence. They might be right to do so at the time –Nel never thought much about what she heard – but she remembered everything, and, as Neliel, she was perfectly capable of putting the pieces together.

“If that is true, she might have changed during all that time.”

Zaraki narrowed his eyes. “You’re saying that the woman and Unohana might be the same person,” he stated, sounding sceptical.

He really wasn’t nearly as stupid as everyone thought him to be. Neliel stifled a smile.

“I’m saying that it’s a possibility,” she shrugged. “You never know unless you ask.”

His eyes narrowed further. “And why would you care?”

Why did she, indeed? Neliel was tempted to say the first answer that came to her head – that it was mere curiosity, and the confrontation between Zaraki and Unohana and its consequences would entertain her possibly for years.

But that wasn’t the truth either; not the whole of it. She was interested for both of their sakes, out of some sort of emotion that she couldn’t really name. Perhaps it was a sort of debt: both of them had done much for her, especially Unohana. If urging Zaraki towards a confrontation would allow them to gain something, then the slate would be wiped clean, and there would be nothing left.

Yet those words still did not fit well around the emotions she felt. No, the only comparison Neliel could make was the simple affection that Nel held towards Ichigo; the strong protectiveness she felt towards him that caused a surge of reiatsu huge enough to overcome her broken mask and return her to her adulthood.

Friendship, she decided. That was the name of it. It wasn’t very Hollow-like, but Neliel had never fitted into the mould of a Hollow well anyway. (That was _Grimmjow’s_ job.)

She was so caught up in her thoughts that both Zaraki and Grimmjow tired of waiting.

“Maybe Neliel just doesn’t want you to look at her and see someone else,” her mate drawled, finally pushing away from the wall he was leaning on to walk towards her.

“Something like it,” she nodded, shrugging again. She decided to leave the revelation that she thought of Zaraki as a friend for another time.

“Did I really do that?” Zaraki asked, brows creasing.

“Yes,” both of them replied.

“You’re obvious enough about it that even Grimmjow noticed,” Neliel added, unable to resist.

Her mate gave her a dirty look which she ignored.

Zaraki snorted, eye growing unfocused before he rubbed the back of his neck again. “Eh, I’ll try not to do that then,” he said gruffly.

 _It might be better if you confront her about those memories of yours, and figure out whether you still want to romp with me afterwards,_ Neliel almost said. But she swallowed her words back: there were limits to the liberties Zaraki allowed her to take. Giving advice was going too far.

“Whatever,” Zaraki waved a hand. He took a step back, looking at the two of them contemplatively.

“So you’re here again,” he said, looking a little amused.

“What, you’re going to tell us to fuck off?” Grimmjow challenged, leaning in. His smirk was nearly large enough to eat his face.

Neliel resisted the urge to roll her eyes at this posturing, simply nodding in reply. Of course they were; why shouldn’t they come when there was nothing stopping them from creating a Garganta straight into Seireitei whenever they were bored of the endless sands of Hueco Mundo?

(She and Grimmjow had mutually decided to not question the reason behind the Shinigami’s permission for them to move between Hueco Mundo and Seireitei at any time they liked. Well, Neliel would’ve liked to try to ponder upon it, but Grimmjow had said, rather reasonably, that looking a gift horse like that in the mouth was merely asking for teeth to snap off their heads. So she had decided to simply accept it.)

“Nah, you two are more interesting than the idiots here,” Zaraki answered, waving a negligent hand that was meant to encompass the entire Eleventh. “So come on in already. My sword’s been itching for a fight since last week.”

Last week? Neliel blinked.

“What happened last week?” The whole conflict with the zanpaktou was around three weeks ago, so it couldn’t be that.

“Lilynette and that tall tagalong of hers made my sword _sing_ ,” Zaraki told her, grinning wide and sounding absolutely gleeful. “I can almost hear what it’s trying to say now.”

Neliel was torn between reacting to _Starrk_ being called Lilynette’s tagalong and to the idea that they could actually affect a Shinigami’s zanpaktou. So she did neither, simply blinking, wide-eyed, at Zaraki.

Grimmjow recovered faster than she did. “Explain,” he demanded. “From the beginning.”

“There isn’t much to say,” Zaraki shrugged. “I don’t know all the details.”

“Why don’t you tell us what you do know?” Neliel said with steel in her voice. It wasn’t a request.

Zaraki looked at her, chuckling. “Basics of it is that the guy who messed with all the zanpaktou is a zanpaktou himself, and those two absorbed him. He belongs to them now.”

“What.” 

The voice was Grimmjow’s, but the reaction belonged to both of them. 

“Like I said, I don’t know what happened and I don’t really care,” Zaraki said, finally sounding impatient at the near interrogation. “But look at this.”

He shoved his blade right beneath their noses.

Neliel blinked at it. The very first thing she had noticed about Zaraki was his sword – how could she not, when it had no sheathe, and its blade always looked chipped and worn? How could she not when it looked as if it would break at any moment and yet it was capable of dealing out such raw power?

She noticed the differences immediately. Reaching out, she glanced at Zaraki for permission. When he nodded, she ran her fingertips along the sharp edge of the blade. The wounds there were half-healed now, and at some points, the blade was almost _whole_.

Her breath caught in her throat. _Starrk_ did this? Starrk received a Shinigami’s zanpaktou and made the power his own?

“Fuck, this is so _unfair_ ,” Grimmjow whined.

“Eh? What is?”

“That fucking bastard and his fucking annoying tagalong never wanted power,” Grimmjow answered, sounding so absolutely _annoyed_. “And power just keeps throwing itself at their feet.”

It wasn’t just the sword itself, Neliel knew. She remembered the way that Lilynette had sent up a shield of pure reiatsu to shield the tiny Shinigami girl from the onslaught of Zaraki’s; remembered the choking weight of it when she looked straight into Neliel’s eyes and said that she would kill Grimmjow if he ever threatened those she cared about.

Lilynette had always been the weakest of all the fraccion; weaker than even Pesche and Dondonchakka before they had died. Not that Neliel’s fraccion had been weak per se, but Lilynette had never been able to put up a good fight against even a Numeros. 

If _Lilynette_ had become so powerful, then what of Starrk? How much power did he have now?

“I’m the one who wants more power,” Grimmjow was still ranting. “Hell, even Neliel wouldn’t mind more. Or Harribel. But no, we don’t get it. Power goes to the guy who wants to be weak just so he can have friends like some fucking pathetic _human_.”

Neliel reached out, her hand curling into a fist.

But Zaraki reached there first. His hand slammed straight into Grimmjow’s face, fingers spread out and with a force strong enough to send him straight into a wall.

“Stop fucking whining about it,” Zaraki growled, cracking his knuckles as he loomed over Neliel’s mate. “If you want more power, then you take it for yourself. Go train or something like that.”

He smiled, all teeth. “Better yet, fight me.”

Grimmjow growled, eyes narrowing as he leapt at Zaraki, hands extended towards his throat. Zaraki’s smile widened into a bloodthirsty grin, and he grabbed Grimmjow by the wrist and threw him straight into the Division, scattering his own members. Then he was already taking off in _shunpo,_ raising his sword into a yell that rocked the walls.

Neliel rolled her eyes and followed them in a more sedate pace. She knew that conversation was nearly impossible between the two of them – all they did whenever they saw each other was fight, simply because they communicated better that way. 

She stepped aside as Zaraki went crashing into a wall, knocking half of it down. When the man stood up and charged again, she hoisted herself up to the conveniently-made seat and watched the fight, kicking her heels slightly against the concrete to test its integrity.

Later on, when they had the preliminary punching-each-other’s-faces stage finished and actually started using their weapons, she would join in the fight. Because Zaraki was right – if they wanted more power, they would have to get it themselves, and there was no better way to get stronger than to fight against an opponent who was giving it his all.

There were still plenty of questions she had regarding what Zaraki had told them about Starrk and Lilynette. Most importantly, she wanted to know how it was possible for someone to have _two_ zanpaktou, much less one that used to belong to someone of a completely different species. But those were not questions Zaraki could answer, and she knew Grimmjow would be interested as well, if only to know if he could replicate the process.

In fact, she wouldn’t put it past him to randomly decide to kill a Shinigami just to steal their zanpaktou. She would have to stop him then, because she honestly doubted that this was the way that things were done, and she would really rather not have Seireitei and Soul Society closed to them simply because of her mate’s idiocy.

“Grind, Pantera!”

The explosion of reiatsu took out another wall. Out of the corner of her eye, Neliel watched as some of the low-ranked Shinigami took cover.

She grinned, drawing Gamuza before jumping straight into the fray.

Questions could be dealt with later.

***

Las Noches had changed ever since the days of Aizen. Instead of flawless white skyscrapers made of packed white sands, there were only crumbling buildings, half-height to Menos Grande, with small mounds of sand stretching as far as the eye could see.

The only part that was whole, _repaired_ , was her old wing. It was a single tower, stretching upwards to the skies, almost entirely hidden by brokenness except for the very tip that shone stark white in the eternal moonlight of Hueco Mundo.

Harribel crossed her arms, leaning against the wall, and waited. She wasn't sure that the person she was waiting for would come – she didn't give an exact timing, after all, because that would be trying her luck a little too much – but she had a feeling that she _would_ see her today.

When Lilynette appeared, practically teleporting without the blurry hint that always accompanied a _sonido_ , Harribel's eyes widened. She couldn't help it; not with how much the girl had changed.

The last she had seen Lilynette, her mask fragment was a full helmet with two horns – one blunt, one almost-sharp – rising upwards from the top of her head. And she was small: small in body, small in power, with her reiatsu barely a blip on Harribel's radar for it was weaker than even Apacci's, the youngest and weakest of her fraccions.

Now Lilynette's power felt like the ocean itself, wide and encompassing, weighing down the air. Harribel was the one with the power over water, and yet Lilynette's sheer strength washed over her like the tides, threatening to drag her down into it until she drowned.

Slowly, her lips curled up into a smile.

“So you have decided to take your rightful strength back from Starrk,” she murmured.

Lilynette grinned, a curve of the lips so wide that her teeth were bared. Her canines, Harribel noted, were sharper and longer than they used to be.

“Nope,” she chirped. “His power hasn't lessened at all. I simply decided to let loose a little bit.”

Harribel's hand reached forward, tracing the air above Lilynette's face. The mask fragment had been reduced to merely an eyepatch wrapped around the girl's head. That must be the reason for it then.

There was a thought nudging at the back of her head, a muffled scream of warning. She was aware, far too aware, of how much danger Lilynette posed; how much danger she and Starrk together would pose to Harribel's den of four if they decided to take them on. Apacci, Mila-Rose and Sung-Sun would be no match against Lilynette now, and they would be completely slaughtered if Starrk's power was added onto it. For all of Harribel's power, for all that she could call water to her despite the vast desert without a single drop of the liquid around them, she wouldn't be able to defeat both of them if they decided to attack. 

That was if Lilynette was telling the truth.

She wanted so badly to remind Lilynette of the proposed alliance. There might be no honour amongst Hollows, true, but it might serve as a deterrent, if nothing else.

The light in Lilynette's red eye – _red_ , a colour so much more dangerous than pink – was knowing and sorrowful. She hooked her thumbs through the sash tied around her colourful yukata _(at least she isn't dressing like a Shinigami_ ), cocking her head to the side.

“So are you going to tell me what you call me here for, or are you going to stand there staring at me for the whole time?” she asked.

In that moment, Harribel decided to take a gamble.

She nodded. “Come on, then,” she said, her voice as quiet as it always was. “I'll bring you to the den.”

They began to walk. There was _seki-seki_ stone littered around the area, dampening their power. The sands, too, were perilous, with the remnants of old guard Hollows buried deep underneath the sands, simply awaiting for prey to come to them.

All those were simply excuses. Harribel knew that the reason why she chose walking over a much faster and more expedient way of travel was simply because she wanted the time to look at Lilynette. To watch her; to see if she was any threat to her and her den.

“You Alphas are all the same,” Lilynette drawled. “Always thinking in terms of territories and threats.”

Harribel blinked.

“Don't worry,” the girl continued, tipping her head up to meet blue eyes with red. “We don't want this place. It is way too run-down, and our territory in Soul Society is far nicer.”

There it was again, that warning scream in Harribel's mind. She ignored it with effort, closing her eyes, and instead latched onto the first thing that came to her mind.

“I didn't realise that you're an Alpha.”

Lilynette laughed, a sound that would be light if not for the hint of bitterness hidden within it.

“I'm not,” she shrugged. “I just know how to talk to one.”

Harribel raised an eyebrow; a silent question.

“No, I'm not a Beta either,” Lilynette sighed irritably. She paused, tugging at the ends of her hair. “I think I'm neither, or both, or whatever you call it.”

After a moment, when Harribel said and did nothing other than simply stare at her, Lilynette rolled her eyes.

“Look, I'm not quite sure why it is this way, alright?” she told her. “I'm pretty sure things have _always_ been like that. Probably something to do with how closely-tied I am to Starrk, or something similar like that. Honestly, I really don't give a fuck. It's like as if either of us would ever want kids anyway.”

“That's a shame,” Harribel replied, lips twitching beneath the high collar of her shirt. “Any children the two of you have would be incredibly powerful.”

Lilynette snorted. “And incredibly crazy too,” she shook her head.

“That's only a misconception,” Harribel replied, resisting the urge to roll her own eyes. “The Hollow children who do end up insane are the simply ones who have not been properly cared for.”

Suddenly, Lilynette stopped. If Harribel wasn't walking a slight distance away, she would have bumped into her. Turning, she blinked, cocking her head to the side at the wide-eyed look on Lilynette's face.

“You're speaking out of experience, aren't you?” the girl asked.

“Is that really so surprising?” Harribel raised an eyebrow.

The single red eye glazed over as Lilynette thought. She raised a hand, tapping on her lip. “Not really,” she said softly. “I was just... taken aback, because I've never heard anything of the sort, and your mates aren't really the type to be able to keep secrets.”

“You mean that _Apacci_ isn't one who can keep her mouth shut,” Harribel corrected, now more than a little amused. “Do you think my mates are so thoughtless to be incapable of keeping their mouths shut about our children? Especially when Aizen had cameras all around?”

“I thought you were loyal to Aizen,” Lilynette said dryly.

“My loyalty and my children's loyalty are not one and the same,” Harribel shrugged. “All of them have been full-grown for decades, with their own Packs to care for. They have no obligation to follow me any longer.”

There was a strange shift in Lilynette's eyes. Harribel blinked when she recognised it: _respect_ , the sort given from one equal to another. And she was immediately angry, instincts raising her hackles, for the thought of this girl, this _child_ , being her equal was...

Was perfectly justified.

No matter how innocuous she looked in this form, no matter how thin her shoulders or the fact that she was so short that her hair barely brushed Harribel's shoulders, Harribel was perfectly aware that Lilynette was still half of the Primera Espada; still the very same creature who was known and feared as the moving mountain of bones. The ocean of her power was simply the tip of the iceberg; Harribel could feel the untold levels leashed deep within her, tightly controlled as if she was afraid of hurting Harribel with the force of it.

So instead of replying, she turned away, staring straight ahead. The tower where she had made her den was in front of them, and she raised a hand, sending out a pulse of her reiatsu. The defences she had woven into the tower, designed based on some of Szayel's half-destroyed notes and from the memories of the one times she had watched Aizen raise the wards, retreated. Slowly, like ink spreading upon wood, a door appeared.

She made to step inside, but Lilynette's hand on her sleeve stopped her.

“Are you sure about bringing me inside your den?” the girl asked, her one visible eyebrow arched. “I haven't agreed to your alliance yet.”

“Would you like to agree now?” Harribel asked mildly.

“Not until you tell me why you called me all the way here.”

“I thought I would just show you.”

Lilynette rolled her eyes. “Look, I know that you don't like talking all that much,” she said dryly. “But I'd like some answers before I go inside.”

“There's no one in there who is capable of harming you.”

“But you didn't know that until you saw me,” came the counter. “How am I sure that this wasn't planned as a trap?”

Harribel sighed, heavy and weighted. She tipped her head upwards to stare at the moon. It looked the same as always, yellow-grey and emitting a dull light. And, like always, it gave her no answers.

But she supposed that she needed none from the moon; the frustration on Lilynette's face told her enough. 

“I asked you here for a favour, and that is the truth,” she said finally. “One of my sons wishes to break his mask and become an Arrancar. He came to me for advice for the process, but I remember little of it, and none which could help him – my mask was broken with the aid of the Hogyouku, after all. You are the only one I know of who broke it herself.”

“ _One_ of your sons?” Lilynette practically yelped. “How many kids do you _have_?”

Harribel couldn't help it; her shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Two daughters and a son from Mila-Rose, my first mate,” she murmured. “One son and one daughter from Sung-Sun, my second. Five in all.”

Lilynette blinked at her.

“What about Apacci?” she asked.

“Apacci is my third,” Harribel explained serenely. “She came to the Pack just months before we met Aizen, far too soon for children. Then the danger of war is far too great for such things.”

“... Hah,” Lilynette said. “That's a lot of kids.”

Now it was Harribel's turn to be surprised. “Is it? I have known Adjuchas who have children up to dozens. For one my age, having only five is rather restrained.”

Lilynette fell silent. “Well, I suppose that you don't have the kind of worries I do,” she said finally.

Before Harribel could speak, the girl was already stepping into the still-open door.

“Well?” she asked, tipping her head back. “Are you going to bring me to see your son or not?”

As they walked down the hallways that had not truly changed since the time when Aizen ruled Las Noches, Harribel reflected that there was truly no need whatsoever to ask about Lilynette's worries. Given what she knew about the girl's strength before she split herself into two, it was obvious: any children she might have ran the risk of dying the moment they were born, or even before, simply because of the weight of reiatsu that surrounded them.

That was if she could find a mate who would be able to survive her presence without dying.

She brought Lilynette to the main congregating area of her den. It was the biggest room in the wing, and, in the past, it was where she would receive visitors. Though the scar on her chest still ached at times when she thought of Aizen's betrayal, she did not see why she should change her habits. This wing had always been hers to use as she saw fit, and Aizen's defeat simply solidified that.

When she pushed the door of the room open, her mates and son were waiting.

“Welcome back, Harribel-sama,” her mates greeted. As always, their eyes had turned towards the door the moment she stepped in.

“Welcome back, Sire,” her son said, inclining his head in a bow a little lower than one given between equals.

Harribel nodded to them. She unzipped her shirt, tossing the scrap of material towards Mila-Rose before she perched herself on one of the tables. There was no need to hide the bone that covered her from cheek to neck here in this room, amongst her Pack.

Wryly, she hoped that Lilynette would understand the show of trust as it was. Though she didn’t have much hope for that.

“Lilynette,” she said, waving towards her son. “This is my youngest, Tier Yan-Sung.”

Single red eye narrowed as it took in the sight of the boy, and Harribel turned to take a long look at him herself.

Yan-Sung was tall, taller than Harribel herself, with long dark hair streaked with gold that spilled down to mid-back. His build was slender, though the bone armour that covered his entire body added bulk. There was nothing of his face visible, hidden as it was beneath a mask full of shark-like teeth, with its cheeks patterned with tiny, crescent-shapes like a snake's skin.

The mask of a born Hollow was the truest sign of its parentage. Harribel's son was a falcon type – as proven by how his mask jutted out into a beak – but there was no denying the Pack he was born into.

“You're Sung-Sun's kid, aren't you,” Lilynette stated wryly.

“She is my Dam,” Yang-Sun admitted, nodding.

“So,” Lilynette said, grabbing a chair and turning it backwards before sitting on it. “Start shooting those oh-so-damned-important questions. You've dragged me all the way from Soul Society for them, so they better be entertaining.”

Apacci started forward, her eyes narrowed. But Sung-Sun caught her hand, pulling her back before she spoke in that soft, half-muffled voice she was so familiar with.

“Shouldn't you be directing your questions more politely, Lilynette-san?” she asked.

Lilynette gave her a wry look. She sighed, grabbing the back of her chair before she stood up, balancing herself on top of it so she could look down at the little gathering.

“Look, I'll take this for a bit of a misunderstanding, okay?” she said. “I'm not a fraccion anymore. Ranks like that pretty much died when Aizen decided that trying to slash up your Alpha is a good idea. And speaking of your Alpha, she knows where the two of us stand. So I think you need to switch off your brain for a bit and see what your instincts are telling you.”

Harribel's mask fragment completely obscured any expressions she might make, and she was gladder for it than ever. She didn't think her mates would be particularly pleased to know that she was smirking at them.

A potential enemy or not, she decided that she _liked_ the person that Lilynette had changed into. The girl had always been rude, but she used to be easily cowed, only displaying her ferocity with Starrk, with whom she felt safest. She had clung to the man like a duckling to its mother, hanging onto his coattails constantly, barely speaking to anyone else. Despite Harribel making some overtures of friendliness – female Hollows were rare creatures, after all – there had never been once when Lilynette had looked her in the eye.

Now Starrk was nowhere in sight, and Lilynette was staring straight into the eyes of every single person in the room, practically baring her teeth with the wideness of her grin.

This, Harribel decided, was a woman she could respect. It was truly a pity that Lilynette was not a Beta; she would make for a strong mate.

Or perhaps not, she thought, blinking slightly at the looks of shocked surprise on the faces of her _current_ mates. It would be far too much trouble, if the fear she could see flashing in three separate pairs of eyes was any indication.

Even Yang-Sun, her youngest and the closest to her in raw power, seemed to doubt himself. It was a subtle thing, merely a flash of uncertainty in his eyes as he looked at Lilynette, but Harribel knew him too well to be fooled.

“I think you have made your point clear, Lilynette,” she said, her soft voice echoing throughout the room. “Yang-Sun, go on.”

“Lilynette-san,” he began, inclining his head politely towards the girl. “I wish to break my mask. My Sire told me that you are the only one she knew who accomplished the feat without the interference of the Shinigami's Hogyouku.”

He made to continue, but Lilynette held up at hand. She dropped back to sit down on the chair. “Okay, stop,” she sighed, rubbing the back of her head. “Don't even _think_ about it.”

Yang-Sun blinked. If his mouth was visible, he would be gaping. Harribel didn't blame him; she felt the same way.

“Why?” he croaked out.

“Two reasons,” Lilynette said, holding up two fingers. “First and most importantly, you're making a conscious decision here. That already tells me it's a _really_ bad idea. When I broke my mask, it was completely unconscious. I wasn't even thinking about it.” She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head hard. “It was just... a very strong desire that took over me all of the sudden. My mask was broken even before I could think.”

She took a deep breath. “Afterwards, I don't remember _anything_ about what came before. I only remember now because... well, because of stuff that's not relevant and which I don't want to talk about.”

Yang-Sun clearly wanted to argue, but Harribel glared at him. He took a deep breath. “Alright,” he nodded. “What is the second reason?”

Lilynette shrugged. “You're not nearly powerful enough to survive.”

“ _What_?!” This time, the surprise came from all five of Harribel's Pack.

Rolling her eyes, Lilynette tugged at the ends of her hair again. “When I broke my mask, I have at least three times your current level of reiatsu. Maybe even four.”

 _Three_... Harribel's eyes widened. Surely not? __

 __“You're exaggerating!” Apacci accused, always the first to speak up despite her lack of seniority. But Harribel could see the finger she was pointing at Lilynette was shaking. __

 __“Okay, maybe not four times,” Lilynette shrugged. “At least three though. Definitely enough to tell you that you're way too weak to survive it.” __

 __“But we were Adjuchas when we broke our mask,” Mila-Rose spoke up now, a frown creasing her brow. “We are still alive now, aren't we?” __

 __“Your masks broke because of the Hogyouku,” Lilynette pointed out. “I'm really not sure what that thing does, but becoming an Arrancar with its help is _very_ different than without it.” __

 __“How would you know?” Apacci challenged. __

 __Lilynette scratched her head, finger slipping beneath her mask fragment. “Eh, if you don't want to believe me, then don't,” she snorted. “It's not as if I have _experience_ or anything.” __

 __Harribel stepped forward, essentially silencing any other protests that her Pack might wish to make. “Will you explain to us the process of becoming an Arrancar to us, Lilynette?” __

 __“Shinigamification,” Lilynette grinned. “We can call it that. Since the Shinigami call becoming a Visored 'Hollowification'.” __

 __Apacci snorted. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” she waved a hand. “Start talking already.” __

 __“Okay, okay,” Lilynette huffed. “Jeez, you're rude, aren't you?” __

 __She received only glares in reply. For some reason, that made her grin even wider.

Then she sobered, sighing. __

 __“It's like being torn apart into a million pieces all at the same time,” she said. “Look, I'm not sure how to explain it properly, but... uh... you know a Shinigami is only composed of a single soul, right? While a Hollow is composed of a crap lot of them?” __

 __“Yes,” Harribel nodded. She shot warning glances towards her mates, telling them without words to be _patient_. __  
  
“So, when you become an Arrancar, you separate the dominant soul from the rest,” Lilynette continued. “To put it bluntly, it's... it's like fighting every single Hollow you have ever eaten all at the same time. And you have to make sure that you win against them, or you... well, you explode.” __  
  
She took in the shock on their faces and sighed. “That's why I'm trying to tell the kid that he's not ready for it,” she said, propping her head on the back of the chair. “When you're ready for it, when _your_ soul has absorbed enough pure reiatsu from the Hollows you have eaten and you're strong enough to take on every single soul in your collection, your instincts will tell you. But, you know, I don't think you can be sure that you can survive the process even then.” __  
  
“Why?” Harribel cocked her head. __  
  
“You know that Aizen pretty much scoured Hueco Mundo for soldiers, yeah?” Lilynette waved a hand. “Why is it that he only found _one_ natural Arrancar out of the... I don't know how many Hollows there are around here, but I can bet that there are a lot. And I’m not egoistical enough to think that I was the only one to try it.”

Yang-Sun spoke up. “Lilynette-san, you're implying that Arrancar is the next natural step of evolution for a Hollow, after the Vasto Lorde stage?”

Lilynette looked uncomfortable for a moment, rubbing the back of her neck. “Maybe,” she said finally. “Given that I'm the only one out there, I honestly have no clue. If you can find another Arrancar not made by the Hogyouku, then maybe you can get a proper answer.”

Apacci snorted. “What makes you think that we can find someone like that when Aizen couldn't?”

“For one thing,” Lilynette said, mouth twitching slightly, “there was one of him, and there are five of you. Even if you count Ichimaru and Tousen, you still outnumber them.”

She shrugged, a sly smile curving up her lips. “Besides, aside from the sex, there isn't much else for you to do here, is there?”

This time, Harribel truly couldn't help herself. She chuckled, soft and quiet, her shoulders shaking. She could feel the wide, astounded eyes of her Pack on her, and she wasn't surprised; for her to laugh like that was to collapse into helpless giggles while rolling on the floor for anyone else.

“Harribel-sama?” Apacci asked, sounding as unsure as she had on her first day within the Pack.

Ignoring her for the moment, Harribel fixed her eyes on Lilynette. “We'll look,” she said. “If we can find another natural Arrancar, we'll ask them for their opinion before making a move.”

“What if we cannot find any, Sire?”

Harribel turned to look at her son. If she was capable of it, she would be smiling, soft and wry. Was it only two hundred years ago that he was newly born?

“I am no longer your Pack Alpha, Yang-Sun,” she said lowly. “You may do as you wish, even without my blessing.”

“Just know that you might die if you try,” Lilynette chirped. “Or go completely crazy, that's possible too.”

She blinked at the onslaught of three glares on her. “What? I'm trying to help.”

“You're _not_ being helpful,” Mila-Rose told her testily.

“Fine,” Lilynette huffed. She flounced off her chair. “Then I'll just go back then. Unless you have other questions?”

Apacci and Mila-Rose looked perfectly ready for her to leave. Even Sung-Sun, whose expressions were usually hidden behind her voluminous sleeve, was glaring daggers. Harribel shook her head.

“Just one more,” she murmured. “Have you given further thought to the alliance I proposed?”

Lilynette watched her silently for a long, tense minute. Then she gave Harribel a smile, an insincere stretch of the lips.

“If Starrk and I agree to it, will you be convinced that we are no threat to you and yours?” she asked.

Harribel blinked.

“You see, Starrk and I aren't really a Pack,” Lilynette said, tugging at the ends of her hair again. “We're the same person, except not really. It's complicated.”

She took a deep breath, and shook her head. “And even if we are, it's still pretty obvious that you guys need us more than we need you, even if it's just information about the Shinigami's movements. The two of us can deal with any incoming threats, so we don't really need you. Not like you need us.”

“What are you trying to say, Lilynette?” Harribel asked, cocking her head to the side.

“We don't want allies,” Lilynette replied, turning away. “We want friends. Comrades. If... if this alliance of yours lets you get one step closer to seeing us as that, then... then we'll agree.”

“You're a strange person, Lilynette-san,” Yang-Sun noted. Harribel had to agree. Starrk and Lilynette were the only Hollows she had ever known who had ever talked about _comrades_ or _friends_.

For creatures like them, there was Pack, and there was Everyone Else. Any other titles were simply superfluous. Harribel herself was already considered odd by other Vasto Lordes and Adjuchas because she cared for her children who had already left the Pack.

Lilynette gave him a crooked smile. “Yeah, we're weird,” she waved a hand. “So...”

Harribel shook her head. “It's difficult to give you an answer when we do not know exactly what you're asking for,” she said.

“Hollows don't make _friends_.” The sneer in Apacci’s voice was badly and hastily hidden.

There was a flash in Lilynette's eyes, something like understanding wrapped around a multitude of other emotions that Harribel could not name. 

“Look,” she sighed heavily. “I'm not asking that much from you. Just a bit of trust just so that you stop looking at me as if I'm a feral dog about to tear your throat out.”

Harribel hesitated for a moment. She knew what she was about to say would be badly received, and her mates were vulnerable here. Not to mention her den itself; if Lilynette decided to fight, then surely it would be completely destroyed.

Yet at the same time, she could tell that Lilynette’s dearest wish was simply to be seen as a friend, whatever that might mean. She did not understand it, but she knew that it would be a deterrent strong enough to make the girl hesitate before attacking at least.

“It is difficult to do so,” she said finally, keeping her voice as flat and non-threatening as possible. “You have become so much more powerful since the last we met you. What guarantees do I have that you will not gain more power, much less use it against us?”

Lilynette opened her mouth, but Harribel raised a hand, stopping her.

“Furthermore, the nature of your reiatsu has changed,” she said. “You feel more like a Shinigami than a Hollow now. I do not know the cause for it, but it makes it far more difficult for me to trust you.”

“Why?” Lilynette asked. The question was so quiet that Harribel had to strain to hear her.

“My instincts are already calling you an enemy,” she answered.

“Then why do you ask me to come, then?” Lilynette asked, her eye narrowed. “Why did you bring me here to your _den_ if you distrust me that much?”

A Hollow’s den was its safe place, one they would protect from threats at any cost. Most of the time, no one but the Pack were allowed inside. Harribel had to admit that the question was perfectly valid.

“Because I thought your power levels had not changed,” she admitted, carefully not averting her gaze. “Because I thought that you could do no harm to my Pack.”

“What about afterwards?”

“I can still stop you long enough for my mates and son to escape, even now.”

Lilynette sagged. She raised her hands, dropping her face into it and rubbing it hard.

“That hasn’t changed, you know,” she whispered. “Just because I’m more powerful now doesn’t mean I’m a different person.”

“But you are,” Harribel countered immediately. “You’re hardly the same girl who could hardly look me in the eye due to fear, Lilynette.”

The girl shook her head. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what _do_ you mean?” Apacci hissed, clearly frustrated. Harribel sent her a warning look.

“I have never wanted to hurt anyone,” Lilynette answered. “Starrk and I have never wanted to. No matter our power, no matter our strength, that has not changed.”

Harribel didn’t move. But she was sure that Lilynette could feel the weight of her scepticism in the air.

“Well, I _will_ hurt you if you harm those I care about,” Lilynette sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. “But all you want is to protect yourselves and each other. So why would we attack you?”

Apacci opened her mouth agaon, but Mila-Rose placed a hand on her arm, pulling her back.

“We only have your word for that, Lilynette,” the most even-tempered of Harribel’s mates said.

“You would only have our word if we have an alliance,” Lilynette said dryly “If that’s not enough for you, then why are you asking for it in the first place?”

Harribel had to admit that she made a good point.

Crossing her arms beneath her chest, she considered her options. There were only two: firstly, she could continue to think of Lilynette – and Starrk – as a potential threat due to their power, move to a different den, and cut off the possibility of having a warning of any attack of the Shinigami from them; secondly, she could trust Lilynette to keep her word and gain both information and great power that they could call upon if there was need.

The first option was far from ideal, for she knew that if she lost the potential of a warning system, Grimmjow and Neliel would rethink their current position on the alliance. The second option meant that Harribel’s entire Pack would have to constantly tamper their instincts.

Honestly, the choice was clear.

She glanced at her mates, warning them to keep their silence, before she spoke.

“We’ll trust your word,” she said. Only long centuries of calm helped to hide her trepidation and the struggle she was having with her instincts.

“I suppose asking you to see us as comrades is too much to ask, is it?” Lilynette raised her visible eyebrow.

“It is,” Harribel nodded. For the simple reason that Harribel had no idea what that even meant, much less what it felt like to see someone else as a comrade. Even during Aizen’s reign over Las Noches, the Espada had never been comrades; they were a group of Packs bound together by a fragile alliance formed through shared fear, and respect for some, for a more powerful being.

Lilynette sighed, dropping her head back and slumping on the chairs. “And people wonder why Starrk and I always see our power as a curse,” she muttered.

Harribel blinked. “No, I can’t say I can understand that.”

“Well, I don’t expect you to,” Lilynette shrugged. She stood up, stretching her hands above her head.

“I’m going back now,” she said. Then she froze. “Oh, there’s just one last thing.”

Was she going to set further conditions regarding the alliance?

“How did you think to ask _me_ instead of Starrk about the whole Arrancar thing?”

Well, that was unexpected. Harribel was glad once more for the mask fragment that cover half of her entire face; it hid her relief.

“The moving mountain of bones resembled _you_ ,” she answered. “Not Starrk.”

“Don’t call us that,” Lilynette snapped. She rubbed her face again with her knuckles. “And I guess that makes sense, yeah.”

Harribel watched as she turned towards the door, thumbs hooked over the sash on her waist.

“Aren’t you going to use a Garganta?” she asked mildly.

“I don’t know if the Shinigami are keeping track of comings and goings,” Lilynette said, tipping her head back to look her in the eye. “I’d rather not take the risk of them finding out that there are still Hollows living in Las Noches. It’ll probably make you more paranoid.”

“With good reason,” Apacci muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lilynette waved a hand. “See you.”

She disappeared. After a moment, when Harribel was sure that the force of her reiatsu could not be felt, she turned to Yang-Sun.

“Follow her,” she said. “Tell me where she opened the Garganta so we can avoid the place.”

Her son blinked, but he nodded quickly enough. “Yes, Sire.”

“Don’t get caught,” she warned. “Stifle your reiatsu as much as you can.”

Without another word, the boy swept out of the room to follow her orders. When he was gone, Harribel turned back to her Pack.

“I still think the whole alliance thing is a bad idea,” Apacci said immediately, the words practically bursting out of her. “I don’t trust her.”

Sung-Sun’s eyes turned from the door to her. “For the first time, I have to agree with Apacci, Harribel-sama.”

If Harribel was more prone to emotional display, she would have sighed. Instead, she only shook her head.

“It is far more useful for us to trust her than not,” she said.

“Do we really need their power so badly?” Mila-Rose ventured.

Looking away from them out of the window, Harribel closed her eyes. She sent out her _pesquisa_ , tracking Yang-Sun’s reiatsu. He was already more than a mile away from the den, keeping far out of the range of Lilynette’s sight as possible.

“I have a feeling that we will,” Harribel murmured. “If not now, then far in the future.”

“You think the Shinigami will attack us, then?” Mila-Rose asked.

“If that’s the case, then we should hit them first,” Apacci added fiercely.

Harribel shook her head. “No,” she said. “There are only four of us, and they have an army with Captains aplenty who can fight even me to a standstill. It will be sheer folly to strike first.”

She opened her eyes, one hand reaching out to splay against the window.

“In any case, I do not think that the threat will come from the Shinigami,” she continued. “They are still too busy rebuilding.”

“Then _who_?” this time, the outburst came from Mila-Rose.

It was a question that Harribel had asked herself ever since she started having these feelings of phantom doom approaching. And, even now, she still had no answer.

“There is still too much out in the all three worlds that we still do not know,” she said after a long moment of silence. “Still, whatever it is or might be, we will need Starrk and Lilynette’s strength beside us.”

She didn’t need to turn around to know that all three of her mates were staring at her in shock and befuddlement. It was not a matter of ego for Harribel to admit that she was the strongest Hollow in the whole of Hueco Mundo at the moment, so for her to say that there was an incoming threat to them that she would not be able to deal with, that didn’t come from the Shinigami…

Truth to be told, she disliked telling them any of this. No Alpha liked the thought of having their mates be afraid for it implied that they were incapable of defending them. There was always a risk of their mates leaving for someone stronger and more capable.

But Harribel had been out-classed before, had suffered defeat before, and had known herself to make mistakes. Her Pack had been with her throughout it all, and she knew now that her mates’ loyalty ran far deeper than safety.

If she was human or Shinigami, she would call it love.

Turning away from the window, she caught all three gazes with her own. “But we cannot depend entirely on their strength,” she said. “We must strengthen ourselves.”

So they could be strong enough to hold back an invading force long enough for call for reinforcement, if nothing else.

The three of them exchanged a glance with each other.

“Of course, Harribel-sama,” Mila-Rose said, agreeing with them.

“We’ll begin now,” Harribel nodded. “Come, let us leave the den.”

“What about Yang-Sun, Harribel-sama?” Sung-Sun spoke up.

Reaching out with her power, Harribel felt the emptiness where Lilynette’s reiatsu had been. So she had already left.

“He’ll be returning soon,” she answered. “He will be able to find us.”

She swept towards the door. “Now come,” she said again, this time letting the impatience show in her voice.

As Mila-Rose helped her put her shirt back on, her eyes narrowed.

There was much to do. They would need to try to search for another naturally-made Arrancar, and she would also have to make some trips of the Living World to see what information she could find about creatures who we neither Shinigami, Hollow, nor Human. In between those, she would have to seek out the many Numeros who had scattered once Aizen fell to bring them to the fold. There wouldn’t be many of them, and they wouldn’t be terribly powerful, but there was no harm in having numbers on her side. 

Something was coming. And Harribel would meet it prepared.

After all, if Aizen could create an army, then why couldn’t she?

***

Deep in the forests surrounding the Thirteenth Division, Rukia went through her forms. Sode no Shirayuki, already released, danced around her, ribbon fluttering through the air as ice gathered and solidified in the middle of summer’s leaves and flowers.

The heat in the forest was greater than back in the Division’s training grounds. Rukia told herself, again, that this was the only reason that she was here; that she wasn’t afraid or nervous about making mistakes in front of those of her Division.

Her sword chided her for it; for being hide from her own Division; from those who should be her comrades. But Rukia couldn’t believe her; not when the Thirteenth hadn’t been her home ever since Kaien-dono and Miyako-dono had died.

After going through a few more repetitions of the forms, Rukia felt a very familiar reiatsu approaching. She hid a smile; there were only two people in all three words who felt like this, and she doubted that Starrk would have any reason to approach.

Sure enough, Lilynette appeared. Unlike Starrk, whose _sonido_ left no trace and who appeared as if he teleported, Lilynette still left shadows of herself along the path she took. And Rukia couldn’t help but feel relieved, for though it might be selfish, she was _glad_ that Lilynette wasn’t as powerful as her other half.

It made catching up to her much easier.

As if to prove her point to herself, her body leapt towards Lilynette. Sode no Shirayuki’s white ribbon whipped through the air, and Lilynette barely had time to dodge before a pillar of ice appeared right where she was standing a moment ago.

“Hey,” Rukia said.

“Hey to you too,” Lilynette snorted in reply. She crossed her arms, sitting cross-legged in mid-air. “You greet everyone you meet like that?”

“Only those who interrupt my training,” Rukia shot back, voice prim.

“Even if they came here to congratulate you?”

“For what?” Rukia widened her eyes, making them look as large and innocent and possible. “I haven’t done anything worth congratulating.”

Lilynette rolled her eyes. In a burst of _sonido_ , she appeared right beside Rukia, reaching out and smacking her lightly on the back of her head.

“You know what I’m talking about!”

“Ow! I don’t!”

This time, Lilynette aimed a kick at her shins. Rukia barely managed to dodge.

“You’re going to be promoted to Lieutenant soon, right?” Lilynette asked, single red eye narrowed as she stood with her hands crossed over her chest. “Or did floating bamboo lie to me?”

Rukia felt a tinge of guilt. Alright, so she shouldn’t have played the denial game with someone still with trust issues, especially when it called the integrity of her Captain into question.

She sighed, rubbing the spot where Lilynette had smacked her. “Ukitake-taichou wasn’t lying,” she said. And, because she couldn’t help herself, “But I’m still right.”

“ _Really?_ ” Lilynette drawled.

“Mm,” Rukia nodded. She turned her eyes back down to her sword, stroking her thumb along the stark white hilt. “I haven’t been promoted yet. I still have the tests to go through, so there’s nothing to congratulate me about.”

“That’s just a formality,” Lilynette dismissed, waving a hand like she was batting away all of Rukia’s insecurities. “Far as I know, there are no other candidates. And floating bamboo said that he has been keeping the post open for a time when you’ll be ready for it.”

Rukia blinked. “ _What_?”

Ukitake-taichou definitely hadn’t told her that part. She had always thought that he had kept the post of Lieutenant open out of respect for Kaien-dono’s memory.

But then it wouldn’t make sense for him to have promoted Kentarou and Kiyone to Third Seats, would it? Ukitake-taichou had loved Miyako-dono too; had seen her as a daughter like he had seen Kaien-dono as his son. Rukia had always… assumed.

Lilynette was looking at her, a small, wry smile quirking up her lips. “Well, what he actually _said_ was that he was glad that,” she lowered her voice, obviously trying to imitate the Thirteenth’s Captain, “ _Byakuya-kun has released me from my promise_. It’s not that hard to figure things out from there.”

Closing her eyes, Rukia sighed. She walked towards the nearest tree and leaned against it, crossing her arms.

She knew; she had always known that her brother had a strong hand in her career. He was the one who made sure that she graduated early from the Academy, after all. And though she had never _known_ that Byakuya was the one who kept her at her post of unseated officer, she had always suspected that he had some hand in it.

Simply because he had never been disappointed at her lowly post when all logic and reason said that he should be.

“You know, I still can’t tell how you figured things out even with that bad impersonation.”

It was half a lie, spoken to fill the silence and get her thoughts out of the spiral of her brother not trusting her and trying to protect her in a way that nearly crushed her self-esteem entirely.

Lilynette’s footsteps were loud and piercing through the soft noises of the forest. Rukia opened her eyes when the girl stopped in front of her, and she allowed herself to turn her head and nuzzle against the hand that Lilynette had placed on her cheek.

“Well,” Lilynette said softly. “Floating bamboo is annoying, but he’s not so dumb that he hasn’t realised that your reiatsu levels far exceeds that of any unseated officer. So when he said that, I realised that your brother probably forced him into a corner with a promise. And with how stupidly fair he is, he can’t in good conscience give anyone else the position of Lieutenant when you’re the one who deserves it. That’s how I figured that he’s keeping it for you.”

“You just called Ukitake-taichou stupid and not stupid in the same breath,” Rukia pointed out, amused.

“He is both,” Lilynette huffed, sounding annoyed. Her fingers folded, and she rubbed Rukia’s jaw with her knuckles gently.

Slowly, Rukia reached up, pushing the hand on her face away. But she didn’t let go, keeping her eyes on Lilynette’s, taking in the flicker of hurt that the other girl was trying to hide.

“Do you remember what I told you?” she murmured.

“Which part?” Lilynette asked. Her gaze flickered from Rukia’s hand on her wrist and Rukia’s face. “You told me a lot of things.”

“I told you to wait.”

Now Lilynette settled her eye on the ground, seeming to find some grass blades to be absolutely fascinating. “Are you going to tell me not to anymore?”

“No,” Rukia said honestly.

Lilynette jerked her head up. She blinked, confusion clear in her eye. “I don’t get it.”

Despite the deep, instinctive urge to turn away; despite how her skin itched where she was touching Lilynette; Rukia stayed where she was. She had forced Ichigo to face his demons and beaten some form of insight into his head no matter how much he had to run away from it. She wasn’t going to turn around and do the same now.

If there was anything Rukia had learned during the war and its aftermath, it was her hatred of lies, hidden truths, and hypocrisy. Lilynette had helped with that, whether or not she meant to do so.

She took a deep breath.

“I said I was thinking about it, but… it wasn’t about whether I like you or not,” she said. “I know that I already do.”

Lilynette opened her mouth, but Rukia shook her head hard. 

“I wanted… _want_ you to wait because things aren’t equal between us,” she continued. The hand not holding onto Lilynette was slowly clenching into a fist by her side. “You’re so much more powerful than I am, Lilynette. Even if I get promoted to Lieutenant, _your_ power levels are more akin to a Captain’s.” Not Ukitake-taichou or Kyouraku-taichou, certainly not, but Lilynette would give Komamura-taichou or even Ichimaru – before he was stripped of his reiatsu – a run for their money. “I want to get stronger first.

“And it’s not just that,” she barrelled on, refusing to acknowledge the brimming frustration in the other girl’s eye. “It’s also that you don’t have a place here just yet. I do – I’m going to be the Lieutenant of the Thirteenth. I’m part of the Kuchiki family. And it’s not _fair_ that I do and you don’t.”

She took a deep breath. “I want… I want to make sure that… if we’re together, no one ever looks at you and sees only ‘Kuchiki Rukia’s pet Arrancar’.”

Lilynette’s eye widened. Slowly, she smiled, hesitant and shaky at the edges. “I’m not really an Arrancar anymore, you know,” she said.

“That’s even worse,” Rukia pointed out. She knew it was a bad attempt at a joke, but this needed to be said. “If they can’t classify you as anything, then they’ll just look at you and see only me, and never bother to look further.”

It was only nowadays that people had to clarify which Kuchiki they were talking about; previously, for long decades, there was only ‘Kuchiki Byakuya’ and ‘his sister’.

She wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Much less Lilynette.

And, judging by the slow-dawning comprehension in Lilynette’s eye, she could tell what Rukia was trying to say without more words. That was a relief; Rukia didn’t know what _else_ she could say.

“Okay,” Lilynette straightened abruptly. She reached out and took both of Rukia’s hands in hers. “You’ll have to get stronger. I have to find a way to prove myself. I think we can both do that, can’t we?”

Rukia was tempted to tell her that acceptance was hard to gain, especially amongst near-immortals. She was tempted to say that her final goal – bankai – would be even more difficult to reach.

But she swallowed her words. They had time, she told herself. They had plenty of time. With Lilynette’s strength, she wouldn’t be dying soon. And Rukia wasn’t planning on dying either.

“We can,” she breathed out, leaning forward until her forehead touched Lilynette’s. “I don’t think there’s anything that can stop us.”

Lilynette grinned, the expression so bright that it lit up her entire face.

“But… you know, you said that you like me,” she teased, reaching up with a finger to poke Rukia’s cheek. “Don’t I get a kiss for that?”

Rukia _stared_. She opened her mouth, closed it, repeated until she was acutely aware that she looked like a landed fish. But she still couldn’t stop.

Then Lilynette leaned in and brushed her lips against her cheek.

“Don’t look so shocked,” came the drawling voice in her ear. “What kind of kiss do you think I was asking for?”

Blinking, Rukia stumbled backwards. She took in the wide grin on Lilynette’s face; the way the red of her eyes were flecked with sparks of mirth; and reached out with both hands to punch the girl on the shoulders.

“Ow!”

“Pervert,” she accused.

“Maybe,” Lilynette shrugged. Her expression sobered for a moment. “Am I a pervert for knowing that if I kiss you, I won’t ever be able to stop?”

Rukia stopped. She was tempted to stare again, but instead, she dropped her eyes down and tried to not tug on the ends of her hair.

“Only as much as it makes _me_ one, I guess,” she muttered.

Lilynette’s fingers brushed over one cheek before drifting upwards. Nails scraped lightly over her hairline, and Rukia breathed out through her teeth so she wouldn’t lean in or reach out to touch back.

“I have to train,” she said flatly, stifling the warmth that was bursting inside her. She leapt – _leapt_ , not skittered, she told herself – backwards until there was enough space between them to raise her sword.

Lilynette gave her a crooked smile. She didn’t move, staying where she was. Her knowing gaze was almost a weight on her lungs, and Rukia knew that she was starting to flush.

In the back of her mind, she could hear Sode no Shirayuki laughing at her. She quite firmly told her sword to quit it.

“I can train with you,” Lilynette said, cocking her head to the side. “Or I can watch.”

Rukia swallowed down the instinctive response to tell her that the best thing she could do now was to go away and leave her alone until she could gather back the pieces of her dignity. But she made a promise, she was going to get stronger.

So she shifted into her usual stance for the First Dance instead, lifting her eyes up and giving Lilynette a challenging glare.

“Come on,” she said. “Fight me.”

The rasp of Lilynette’s _wakizashi_ against its scabbar bounced off the tall, high trees.

“Kick about, Los Lobos!”

As reiatsu burst out of Lilynette, hard enough to make the air itself shiver, Rukia grinned.

“ _Juhaku_!”

And charged.

***

Shunsui had tried to dissuade him, but he knew this was something he had to do.

He went through all of the appropriate channels; followed the procedures given months ago. They told him that he was the first, and he stood there, unflinching beneath the Captain-Commander’s sharp- and dark-eyed gaze, trying to communicate through his silences and halting words that this was meant to be an exorcism.

Perhaps the ghosts who lingered around him would only haunt him more after this, but this was a chance he had to take.

Now he stood in front of the wide double-doors leading towards the underground. Closing his eyes, he eased his breathing, ignoring the stares from the First Division guards at the two sides. Then, he reached out, brushing his reiatsu against the wood.

When the doors swung open, hinges creaking softly, it was a disappointment. There were no ghosts here, leering at him from the bars of their rotting cage. There was only darkness, seemingly bottomless, the white staircases leading downwards half-lit and grey beneath the flickering torchlights. 

His feet made no sound as he took one step forward. Then another, another, until he was deep within the cavern with his hand on the wall and the sound of the doors slamming behind him.

The very moment his foot left the last step, the torches flared brighter. Light poured into the cavern, illuminating the long passageway. He took another breath and hissed it through his teeth, lidding his eyes heavily as the sound of his footsteps echoing hauntingly through the emptiness. 

He knew he wasn’t the only living creature here. But his _pesquisa_ felt nothing – no low thrum of power, no strength whatsoever – and he clenched his fist as he made yet another turn down the winding passage.

When he reached his destination, he could hear the clanging of chains.

Aizen sat on a throne, surrounded by _seki-seki_. 

For a moment, he could not breathe, for he looked almost like he did in Las Noches. But the high-backed chair was cast in yellow by the flickering torch-flames; but Aizen had never looked like this, swathed in black chains that bound him to the chair with thick stone bands wrapped around his legs. But Aizen’s eye had never been covered, and the man had never looked so emancipated.

He felt himself breathe easier.

Standing there, hands loose by his sides, he looked at the man he had once thought to be his saviour.

“Starrk,” Aizen said, and his voice had not changed. It was still the same calm tone, threaded with strange mirth and insinuations that Starrk never under grasp. “This is a surprise.”

He looked at him, the man who wanted to be god but who was defeated by a boy. He took in the surprise in Aizen’s single widened eye; took in the barely-noticeable tremor in his chained hands.

And Starrk smiled. It was not a cruel twist of the lips; it was gentle, soft at the edges.

“I’m your first ever visitor, aren’t I?” he asked.

Aizen didn’t answer. He merely looked at Starrk, lips pressed into a line. Starrk met the gaze, deliberately not turning away; deliberately keeping his silence despite all of his rehearsed lines aching to burst from him.

Finally, Aizen cocked his head. Only slightly; only as much as the chains binding him allowed. “What are you here for, Starrk?”

Starrk refused to let out the sigh of relief. Instead, he hooked his thumbs into the sash of his kimono, and gave Aizen a lopsided smile.

“I’m here to thank you,” he murmured. “And to tell you what has happened with everyone, because I don’t think you know.”

And for Aizen, to not know was likely a heavier weight than the chains that bound him.

But the man didn’t show any signs of gratitude. He merely shrugged, hands twitching slightly as if he was trying to make an imperious wave of a hand.

“Go on then.”

Starrk didn’t begin immediately. He looked away from Aizen instead, scanning the dark dirt ground of the Muken. Finding a spot, he dropped down to sit. A thick layer of dust exploded underneath him, and Starrk blinked, staring at it. 

How often did anyone walk past? How long had it been since Aizen had looked upon another living creature?

Pushing the questions away, he started to speak.

“Lilynette made a friend,” he said quietly, tipping his head up to look at Aizen. “Her name is Kuchiki Rukia. I think you know her; you took the Hogyouku from her.” That was, he thought, more suitable than saying _you tried to have her executed_. “Lilynette told me that Kuchiki is training hard, and her Captain was talking about promoting her to Lieutenant soon.”

Before Aizen could reply, he continued. “Speaking of Ukitake-taichou, he has started wearing his hair bound instead of loose. It’s a little odd and I’m not very used to it, but Shunsui told me that he always wore his hair like that until a hundred years ago. So I guess that… it’s returning to how things were, and I should get used to it.”

He saw it; the way that Aizen’s eye twitched slightly when Starrk spoke Shunsui’s actual name, unadorned by any honourific.If there was anyone who knew Starrk well enough to know that he always used nicknames or titles for those he thought would leave him, it was Aizen.

But Aizen didn’t speak, and so he continued. “I heard that Hinamori is doing well. I think that it’s true; the last time I met her, she looked at me in the eye and didn’t turn away immediately. Her new Captain helped her a great deal. You know him too; Hirako Shinji.”

Taking a deep breath and ignoring the way that Aizen’s shoulders were growing tense enough to be seen through the darkness wrapped around him, he kept going. “He’s not the only Captain who came back either. The other two are… I think they’re called Otoribashi and Mugurama. I haven’t spoken to them at all, but there aren’t any reports or rumours of things going awry in their Divisions, so I guess they’re doing well too.”

“Starrk.”

He stopped speaking. When Aizen didn’t continue, he ducked his head to hide his smile.

“You’ve probably heard about Ichimaru’s punishment. Things haven’t changed much on that front, really, but…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I think he’s getting better. He doesn’t refer to you as ‘Aizen-taichou’ anymore, I think, and… well, there have been quite a few sighs of relief.”

Starrk had been preparing for this for days; had looked through the reports on Shunsui’s desks. He usually didn’t make such an effort to listen and know about the goings-on of Seireitei, but he needed to, this time.

“As for me…” his hand tugged on the collar of his kimono and he pulled down the cloth enough to show Aizen the healed-over Hollow hole; showed him the complete lack of collar on his neck.

“I’ve changed a little.”

Aizen barked a laugh. Starrk watched as he took a breath; watched as the tension seemed to seep out of him.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, mockery laced in every word. “Is this how you show your _gratitude_ , Starrk?”

“No,” Starrk shook his head. “But you wanted to know, didn’t you?”

Silence again. This time, Starrk wasn’t deterred by it. He stood up again, leaning in close to the bars. Even like this, so close to that he could feel the _seki-seki_ stone draining his reiatsu, Aizen was still out of reach.

“I really do want to thank you,” he said quietly, catching Aizen’s gaze and holding it. “If you haven’t found me, I wouldn’t have met any of them. Lilynette and I would spend centuries more in Hueco Mundo, not knowing what was out there and not daring to venture out.”

He quirked a small smile, perfectly sincere. “You led us out of the darkness, the loneliness. Even if you didn’t mean to, you did keep your promise.”

 _The best revenge,_ Starrk had read recently, _was forgiveness_.

Starrk didn’t think the rule applied to everyone, but to Aizen… there was no mistaking the flash of sheer _rage_ that flashed across his eyes.

Slowly, Aizen started to laugh. His shoulders shook, and the chains held him so tightly than his entire body was convulsing from the force of his low, quiet chuckles.

“You have learned to be cruel, Starrk,” he said.

“Mm,” Starrk nodded. He already knew that. What was his purpose here, after all, than to rub it into Aizen’s face that people were moving on from his actions; that they were changing from the people he had made them to be; that his actions had, in the end, not given him more power and control but took them both from him?

“Do you think it will last?” Aizen said. His eye was narrowed, and there was a very familiar smile on his face. It was the smile Aizen gave him whenever he threw Starrk to the ground and fucked him until he bled and screamed.

“Do you really think that they will accept you?”

Instead of feeling hurt or afraid, Starrk found himself laughing. The knot in his chest that had been there ever since he first watched Aizen attack Harribel was loosening, and he breathed easier, laughed even harder.

“What makes you think they have?” he countered, keeping his own smile gentle. The words were harsh enough. “So many of them still look at Lilynette and I with suspicion and fear in their eyes. But we…”

He lifted his hands, showing off his bare wrists.

“We’re getting there.”

Aizen looked as if he was going to speak again, but Starrk interrupted him before he could start.

“Do you remember Hueco Mundo’s moon?”

His throat was starting to hurt. It had been so long since he had spoken so much. But Starrk pushed down on the instinctive urge to stop, and forced himself to continue.

“The moon in Hueco Mundo emits a grey light. You know that I never knew that the sands were white until you brought me to Las Noches with its artificial sun. But… I have been thinking recently. Even if the light was grey, it still allows us to see. It is still _light_.”

Finally giving into the urge to shove his hands into his pockets, Starrk widened his smile. “You shouldn’t have created an artificial sun. The moon suits you so much more, Aizen.”

Aizen’s eyes were narrowed into slits by now. He didn’t say a word for long moments after Starrk had stopped speaking.

Finally, he smiled. “Weren’t you going to tell me more about how you have changed?” he asked, sounding almost idle. “Your revenge is quite incomplete without it, Starrk.”

Starrk shook his head. “I don’t need to do that,” he said, perfectly honest.

After all, Aizen already knew. For Starrk to be here, looking him in the eye and speaking to him without reverence or devotion or fear; for him to use Aizen’s name without his usual honourific while the two of them were alone…

If Starrk told him more, he would only be rewarding the man with information.

“So you’re finished with me,” Aizen said, his voice soft and contemplative. It was the same tone he had used when he told Starrk to kill the newly-made Arrancar with his bare hands.

“That was quite an anticlimactic denouement, Starrk.”

“I’m not looking for victory,” Starrk told him quietly.

“Then what are you looking for?”

Starrk chuckled. His shoulders shook minutely as he met Aizen’s gaze squarely. He knew how much it took this man to _ask_ instead of _assume_ ; knew the frustration that was being carefully hidden in that even voice.

“An exorcism,” he answered.

Aizen’s smile turned sharp; a shark scenting blood in the water. “Do you expect me to give it to you?” he mocked.

Giving him a small smile, Starrk breathed, soft and calm. “No,” he murmured. “Because… Aizen, you already have.”  
__  
You can't read me anymore. You can't play me like a puppet anymore.

_I know why you kept me so close. I know why you tried so hard to make me see the world the way you want me to. I'm a threat to you. Not for my power, but for my eyes._

_But you kept me so close that, in the end, I'm the one who can hurt you most. And I already have._

__“Well,” Starrk said, half-turning away. “I’m going back.”

“So soon?” Aizen drawled, tone arch.

Even though there was no hint of it in his voice, Starrk knew the panic was there; knew that it was only the chains and his pride that kept Aizen from reaching out to him.

So he asked, “Will you like me to come back?”

Only silence met him. Aizen’s eyes glowed in the half-darkness, filled with a myriad of emotions, all struggling and contradicting each other.

He smiled. “I think I will.”

As he walked away, Aizen didn’t say a word. 

_I can hurt you,_ Starrk thought. _I can lie to you the way you did to me._

_But I won't. You can’t hurt me anymore, can you?_

_You taught me cruelty. But I have never learned that particular lesson well._  
  
The words were left unspoken as he padded down the passageway. 

He knew that Aizen could hear them.

*

When he returned to his rooms in the Eighth, Starrk picked up a piece of a paper and ink. Without thinking, he painted a lake. The waters caught the dark, shivering reflection of the full moon.

Then he put down his brush. Dipped his fingers straight into the inkwell, staining the tips black. He scored lines down from the top of the lake to the bottom. His hand was steady; the lines were straight.

Without waiting for the paint to dry, Starrk lifted it up. He stood there, staring at it, watching as the ink slid downwards until the moon seemed to be bleeding behind its cage.

He took the painting to the grounds and fired a Cero through it. He watched the ashes float down to the grass.

Then he turned his back and headed for the Captain’s office to look for his Sun.

****

_~ End Arc 2: The Captain and the Wolf ~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Arc 2 is this, _One Moment_ will be going on hiatus. I will resume posting _latest_ in June 2015.
> 
> The reason for this is because 1) I am waiting for canon to come out so that I can properly outline the Wandenreich/1000 Years of Blood War Arc without contradicting canon facts/characterisation so the changes I make to this AU is believable, and 2) I have spent something like three months on this fic so far, neglecting my original projects _entirely_ , and I need to get back to them.
> 
> Thank you for everyone who have followed me through so far! This fic has exceeded four hundred pages in Times New Roman single-spaced size 12. The wordcount is a hundred and eighty thousand or so, including authors’ notes. It is definitely the longest and most sustained fanfic I have ever written. And all the encouraging comments/reviews have helped me keep going for so long. 
> 
> ~~I hope that I will still see you all in June!~~
> 
> ~~PS: Arc 3 is, tentatively, named _ **The King and the Lionheart**_. Spot all the plot threads in Arcs 1 and 2 that I have left hanging and see if you can guess where I’m taking things with that Arc, hohoho. I really want to see if I’m being too obscure or too obvious/predictable.~~
> 
> This is the ending, yes, because _Bleach_ has destroyed all of my motivation to write for it.


End file.
